


You're A Jerk

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Day at Triskelion, Meet Awful?, SHIELD Office Shenanigans, What's The Opposite of Meet Cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy has the opposite of a Meet-Cute on her first day at SHIELD.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

The Triskelion Building

Washington, DC

Move-in day for Team Science! at SHIELD’s DC headquarters.

  


“Ok, I’ve got a list,” Darcy said, pushing Jane’s equipment cart through the lobby atrium at SHIELD. She was talking to Jane on a headset attached to her phone. “You need more duct tape, a internal solid state drive--should I spring for Samsung?--a multipack of dry erase markers, and Andes mints, right? Anything else?” Darcy asked Jane. A passing SHIELD employee looked oddly at Darcy. “What is with these people?” Darcy muttered. Everyone seemed to be staring at her today. Was it her outfit? She’d worn her fanciest comfy leggings and least pilly sweater. So what if her messenger bag was festooned with stickers for coffee shops in towns with a higher-than-average percentage of astrophysicists? The Daily Grind in Pittsburgh (aka, the home town of Allegheny Observatory) was awesome. Darcy was a little sad that they were leaving behind their life of itinerant observatory visiting for a permanent research lab at SHIELD. They’d been to lots of cool universities when Jane was a visiting professor. The tiny, but mighty scientist had taken a series of lectureships while she worked on her book--and Darcy had happily gone along for the ride. Who would Darcy play beer pong with now that they weren’t going to be on a college campus? None of the people in this place looked like beer pong people. Darcy had been hoping that Jane would pick the permanent job at Haleakala Observatory. It was in Hawaii. Darcy had liked Hawaii. But Jane had refused to put beer pong on the pros and cons list. Now they were settling down with a SHIELD benefits package, quinjet privileges, access to a secret observatory in the mountains of VA, and close proximity to Thor, who bounced between NYC and DC in his Avenging. Cap and Natasha were here, but Thor stayed freelance; Darcy suspected it was because Tony kept better snacks than SHIELD. Darcy sighed as she rounded a corner at Triskelion and several dark-suited men turned to stare at her. She wished Jane had gotten an offer from Tony. Working with Tony would be fun.

 

Nothing about this place looked fun, in fact. It was actually kind of disorienting and a smidge depressing. The weirdly 1980s Triskelion building was confusing to navigate. She’d already gotten lost with the first load of Jane’s doohickeys. But she’d found a landmark to help her: when she was going the right way, Darcy passed a wall with photos of Chester Phillips (old, grim-faced white dude in uniform) and Margaret “Peggy” Carter (badass superspy and Cap’s best girl). The two of them were flanked by photos of subsequent SHIELD directors and hoi polloi. The last was one Nick Fury, complete with terrifying glare, black leather trench coat, eyepatch, the works. Darcy repressed the giggle that bubbled up in her chest. She half-expected Fury’s eyes to follow her like a Scooby Doo portrait.

 

Darcy steered her cart onto the glass-walled elevator with a bunch of suits and Very Serious commando-looking dudes and one scowling commando lady in tactical gear. Everyone was wearing black. Her fuschia sweater made her stand out like a flamingo at a funeral, she realized. Several of the tactical people were carrying actual machine guns. “Rob any banks lately?” Darcy asked the guy nearest her. He was a tree--over a foot taller than her--with slicked back hair, jutting cheekbones like the flying buttresses at Notre Dame, and a scary resting face.

“Nawt,” he drawled. “These are just for practice, pet. I’m Jack Rollins.” He offered her a hand--after she juggled her coffee and laughed at herself--and Darcy shook it. He had a friendly handshake. Not too lingering, no clamminess.

“Darcy Lewis, unarmed,” she said. Sadly. The lobby security people had seized her taser. She was getting Lucille back when she left, though. She’d already sent emails about it. Lucille was going to be a nights and weekends taser now. “I like your accent. Australia, right?” she asked.

“I’m from a town called Kurrajong, outside Sydney,” he said cheerfully. “Near the mountains.”

“Oh, that’s fun,” Darcy said.

“You’ve been?” he said.

“No, it’s fun to say. Kurrajong. I wish I was from Kurrajong,” Darcy said.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Originally, Greenville, NC,” Darcy said, “but my parents moved to Virginia when I was eight. I grew up a few hours from DC.” Darcy’s Grandma Lewis still lived nearish to Greenville, in a waterfront town called Edenton. Darcy visited her in the summer. Now that they were closer, she was going to go for Christmas. She might drag Thor and Jane. Thor would look hilarious kayaking in Albemarle Sound. Maybe they could get a shot of him in the kayak near some decorated boats or something. Darcy was so occupied by her holiday plotting that she missed the tactical dudes trying to get past her as the door opened. One of them cleared his throat.

“Miss,” he said flatly.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry,” Darcy said. She tried to scoot her cart over and accident tipped her coffee over instead. “Oh, shit,” Darcy said, as she watched it all happen in slow-mo. Her plastic travel mug landed on the floor with a splat. The snap-on lid came loose and coffee splashed all over commando guy’s pants and shoes. “I’m so so sorry. Like, really sorry,” Darcy said.

“Great,” he said, picking up his foot and looking at the damp shoe and his pants’ cuff.

“And you have a gun!” Darcy said, trying to lighten the mood. Several of the other commando types laughed as Darcy sponged up coffee off his shoes and pants with a wad of napkins out of her messenger bag. She was trying to hurry--the elevator doors were still open and half a dozen people were watching--so, in her haste to clean up, a few napkins fluttered out onto the floor.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, get up and stop littering,” coffee-soaked commando guy said grumpily.  He picked up the damp napkins and plopped them in Darcy’s hands, then stomped out of the elevator.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, love,” Jack whispered, as he helped her wipe up some of the spill.

“Rollins!” the other man called.

“I think you’re being summoned,” Darcy said. Jack gave her a funny smile, then departed. Several people waiting for the elevator gave her sympathetic looks, but no one offered to help her get the cart over the elevator track or anything useful.

 

Gah, Darcy thought. She was going to be Spill Girl again. She’d been Spill Girl in London and Tromso, but she’d thought the curse was broken. At least she hadn’t poured or dropped anything on Nick Fury yet.

  


***

Darcy was headed to refill her coffee after unpacking most of Jane’s stuff when she heard voices from inside the breakroom. “Can you believe they’ve hired Thor’s girlfriend and her ditzy assistant, Boss?” a male voice said. She froze in the hallway.

“It’s the PR effort Fury and Hill are running, obviously. They like having that Avengers publicity. But at least Cap and Thor are useful. Now we’ve got pouty-faced little girls masquerading as physics geniuses?” a second man said, snickering.

“I wouldn’t say masquerading,” a dry voice that Darcy recognized as Coffee Commando said. “The ditzy assistant dumped her coffee all over me on the elevator today. Someone should buy that girl some bleach,” he said, chuckling.

“Bleach?” the second man asked. As he spoke, a blonde woman walked up to the door, paused, and looked at Darcy significantly. Darcy shook her head.

“Cause Foster’s assistant was meant to be blonde,” Coffee Commando said. “Kurrajong,” he mimicked, doing a version of Darcy’s enthusiastic voice that made her want to wince.

“Did you see the rack, though?” the first man said. “I’d almost ask her to spill coffee on me. Think those are real or fake?” There was more snickering. The blonde woman nodded at Darcy with something like grim sympathy and looked furious.

“Where’s Rollins?” the second man said.

“I sent him to run laps,” Coffee Commando said. “He’s a little behind on his cold weather conditioning and he needs to learn about fraternizing with the ditzy.”  There were chuckles.

“Ahem,” the blonde said, stepping into the doorway.

“Sharon,” the first man said, sounding embarrassed.

“Talking about blondes, huh?” she said frostily. “Why don’t you try not gossiping like the cast of _Real Housewives_ on their fourth bottle of chardonnay. This how you talk at work, Rumlow? I thought you were running a STRIKE team, not a frat house?” she asked in a sharp voice. Darcy took that as her queue to go back to the lab. She heard one last snippet of conversation as she turned away.

“I _am_ running a STRIKE team, Agent Carter,” Coffee Commando said back. There seemed to be a dig there, too.

 

“Where’s your coffee?” Jane asked, when she came back empty-handed.

“I forgot to bring it,” Darcy lied. She had the last little bit of her one-hundred percent Kona coffee from Hawaii in her messenger bag. She’d really loved Hawaii. Kona was very good coffee, after all. And everyone at Haleakala Observatory had been really nice. No jack-booted thugs in sight. Just a lot of astro-geniuses and science techs who surfed or hiked or both in their spare time.

“They didn’t have any?” Jane asked.

“There was a line. I’ll go back later,” Darcy said. It wasn’t like she wanted to cry or anything.

 

***

Darcy and Jane had decided to take the DC Metro into work everyday; the entire capital was safer and they were richer if they didn’t drive in the morning rush hour, Darcy had decided, somewhere after her third speeding ticket and Jane’s fourth Science! distraction ticket. They were living in a building that Tony owned, so they had the perk of a garage, free Starkflix and internet, and proximity to a Trader Joe’s and a metro line. At present, their commute was the most exciting thing in Darcy’s day. It gave her time to read or listen to music. On the ride in, she overheard a guy listening to a dubstep remix of “Redemption Song.”

“I love that,” she said. “Dubstep, right?”

“You like dubstep?” the guy said, looking at her skeptically. She thought he might actually be Jamaican, based on his accent.

“I don’t know enough about it, really, but I’d like to. I went to a talk at Culver with a writer who’d interviewed Bunny Wailer for _GQ_ and he talked about how Jamaican radio DJs mix things live on-air, so you get all kinds of different versions of songs you may only hear once. That’s incredible to me. It’s like living music. I wish that was a thing here,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “There’s nothing like that in this country.”

 

Darcy had watched a documentary about the attempted assassination of Bob Marley recently, so she found herself deep in conversation with Train Guy. His name was actually Devan; he was originally from Port Antonio. While Jane scribbled notes, they talked about Jamaican politics, Marley’s commitment to nonviolence, and how screwed up it was that Jamaican politicians had tried to use him for their own purposes and several people had been shot. Devan wrote her a list of dubstep musicians she should look into before they reached the Triskelion stop. “Thank you,” Darcy said, genuinely happy. Talking to him had brightened her whole mood.

“You take care now,” he said in his lilting voice. He looked doubtfully at Jane; she had been writing wildly in her notebook.

“Oh, she’s harmless,” Darcy said, smiling. “C’mon, Janey, this is our stop.” Jane muttered and stood up, still writing. “Bye, Devan. Thanks again,” Darcy said. She was turning to exit the train when she almost jumped out of her skin. Coffee Commando was standing by the train exit doors, looking at her and grinning. He stepped off with Darcy and Jane.

“You know Devan just wants to get in your pants, right?” he said. “Nobody’s that nice on the train.”

“Shut up, nobody asked you,” Darcy told him in a low hiss. “C’mon, Jane.” A confused Jane looked at the both of them, then followed Darcy as she hurried away.

“What the hell was that?” Jane said.

“He’s a complete asshole,” Darcy said grimly. “An asshole and a sexist d-bag.”

“You know Rumlow works with Steve, right?” Jane said. “Steve introduced him to me at our orientation. Does all the important prep work so Steve can knock everyone down with his shield. He’s like Steve’s Darcy.”

“Jane,” Darcy said firmly, “never say that again.”

“Steve said it, not me,” Jane said.

“Great,” Darcy groaned. “Jane, I’m running away.”

“You can’t leave me,” Jane said.

“I’ll change my name, go back to Hawaii,” Darcy said. “I’ll send you my new address. It might be a van, though.” Hawaii was expensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy means this GQ interview with Bunny Wailer: https://www.gq.com/story/bunny-wailer-john-jeremiah-sullivan


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy likes curly haired, bashful guys in this fic and that sweet, blushing redhead Andrew from GBBO.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

 

Week 1 for Team Science!

Triskelion headquarters

Washington, DC

 

“Darce, why didn’t you tell me?” Jane said, horrified, when Darcy explained what had happened in the breakroom earlier that week. Sharon Carter had come to by to apologize for Rumlow and the whole story had tumbled out of Darcy.

“I didn’t want you to slap anyone on your first day,” Darcy joked. She hated that she’d missed Jane slapping Loki. It was a major life regret.

“Right,” Jane said, seeing through her evasion. “You know how I feel about secrets, Darce.”

“I know, I know, secrets get people killed. But you were happy,” Darcy said. She hadn’t wanted to quash Jane’s excitement about her new lab or their new condo. Darcy did like the condo, honestly.

“I was surprised, too,” Sharon said. “I know Jack Rollins is a good guy. I helped do his orientation and we became friends. STRIKE Alpha doesn’t have a bad reputation, but Cap is making some of these guys nuts.”

“Steve?” Jane said. “How?” She’d met Steve a few times and couldn’t imagine him bothering anyone.

“They all feel threatened by how successful he is. They know they can’t compete, so they act out,” she said.

“Really?” Darcy said. “Bugged out by the guy on their lunchbox?”

“Uh-huh. Maria Hill figured it out first, had me do a stats work-up. The numbers don’t lie. As soon as he joined us, there was a sharp increase in behavioral issues with the teams placed close to him. He inspires the regular agents a lot--and some of the STRIKE guys, like Jack--but others feel threatened. Obsolete, you know?” Sharon said.

“Wow,” Darcy said. She hadn’t imagined that. “It’s just like that Dr. Glenduring who freaked out over your research, Jane. The one who wrote us all the nutty letters?”

“He mailed us copies of his diplomas--after he put them through a shredder and included a note about how it symbolized what I did to science,” Jane said grimly.

“Did you get a restraining order?” Sharon asked.

“Judge wouldn’t give us one, said it wasn’t a clear threat,” Darcy said. Sharon shook her head, then took them to lunch in the cafeteria and filled them in on the latest office politics at SHIELD.

 

They were still commiserating when Steve came into the cafeteria, flanked by STRIKE Alpha. After they got food, he made a beeline for their table. The STRIKE Alpha guys behind him paused momentarily, then followed.

“Dr. Foster, Miss Lewis,” Steve said kindly, “how are you settling in?”

“I’ve got their backs, Steve,” Sharon said. She was looking at the Alpha bros when she said it.

“Do you know Shar is Peggy’s great-niece?” Steve said, beaming.

“No, we didn’t,” Darcy said. “That’s so cool. Your great aunt Peggy is a total badass.”

“Peggy’s so proud of you, Sharon,” Steve said, sitting down. “She talks about you a lot. Sharon’s the first woman her age to be in line to lead a STRIKE unit,” he said to Darcy and Jane proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” Sharon said, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m glad you and she spend time together, Steve.” When Steve was distracted, Sharon leaned over to Darcy and Jane. “Peggy has dementia, but Steve visits every week. Sometimes, she knows what year it is, sometimes she doesn’t,” she said quietly. It dawned on Darcy that Coffee Commando had been rubbing it in Sharon’s face that she didn’t have a STRIKE unit--yet. She ought to have Jane portal him, she thought. He was probably jealous because Sharon was a Carter, too. When Darcy cut her eyes down the table at the rest of the STRIKE Alpha guys, she smiled at Jack and pointedly asked him how he was.

“Always a good day if I’m sitting here, Darce,” he said, smiling.

“Oh yeah?” she said.

“Means the parachute deployed correctly yesterday,” another guy said, smiling. Darcy didn’t recognize his voice, so she laughed. The creepers from the breakroom were on either side of Rumlow, she guessed, after listening to their voices. She didn’t interact with them.

 

After they finished eating, Sharon took her and Jane around to meet people in the analysis unit and R&D who were also eating lunch. Darcy had quietly begged to meet some not-bros when they both got up for coffee. Sharon led her over to a table where a guy was sitting alone. He looked up at them.

“Hey, Sharon,” he said.

“This is Cameron Klein,” Sharon said. “He’s an analyst. Cam, this is Darcy Lewis, she’s Dr. Jane Foster’s assistant,” she said, pointing out Jane. Jane was talking to someone in R&D a few feet away.

“Hi,” Cameron said, smiling warmly at Darcy.  

“Hellooo,” Darcy said, then caught herself. Whoops. She’d almost done a little Gus from _Psych_ sexy hello there. Cameron was really cute. She grinned in spite of herself.

“Hi,” Cameron said again, ducking his head slightly. He patted his curly hair self-consciously. Darcy loved that whole rumpled curly hair deal. Bruce Banner did that same move and it wrecked her whenever she saw it.

“So, you process all of SHIELD’s information and intelligence?” she asked, leaning slightly against his cafeteria table.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I don’t do all of it obviously,” he said, blushing. He seemed shy. But he was totally her type: skinny, nerdy, sweet smile. “But I’ve heard all about how you tased Thor,” Cameron said.

“You heard about that?” Darcy said. “How?”

“Thor told Cap who told Natasha Romanoff who told everybody,” he said, blushing. “I expected you to be taller. Isn’t Thor tall?”

“Yeah, but I thought he was just a drunk at the time,” Darcy admitted. “I’m not sure I could have done it had I known who he really was.” In response to her _whoops_ arm shrug, Cameron Klein actually laughed.

 

He is adorable, Darcy thought. Just adorable.

Cameron thought she had beautifully mischievous eyes.

 

***

“Oooh,” Jane said to Sharon. She was looking at Darcy and Cameron across the cafeteria. “Who’s that with Darcy?”

“Cameron Klein,” Sharon supplied.

“He looks nice. Darcy has a total _mensch_ thing,” Jane said, smiling. “Is he nice?”

“Yeah,” Sharon said. “Really nice. What do you mean, a _mensch_ thing?”

“Her type is basically kids I went to Jewish day camp with--my mom’s from Tel Aviv--or really nerdy redheaded guys from the UK,” Jane explained. “Guys in glasses, too.”

“Redheaded men?” Sharon said. “Like Prince Harry?”

“Nah, too buff. The last guy she dated was from Ireland and looked like baby Conan O’Brien. Declan. He was so sweet. He baked bread as a hobby,” Jane said. “They just couldn’t make long distance work. He got the worst sunburn when he visited us in Hawaii.”

“Really?” Sharon said. She was trying to picture a young Conan O’Brien and failing. “I can’t imagine that.”

“Do you watch _Great British Bake Off?_ Andrew from a few seasons ago or the guy who played Bingley in the Keira Knightley _Pride & Prejudice _ are her redhead types,” Jane supplied.

“Oh,” Sharon said. She’d seen that _P &P _.

“It’s so funny to play Who Would You Rather? with Darce,” Jane whispered. “She’s the only person I’ve ever met who seriously picks Skinny Steve. Once, I caught her photoshopping Buddy Holly glasses on Steve’s pre-serum photos. You know, those fifties ones that are black at the top and silver at the bottom?”

“Oh my God,” Sharon said, “she does like nerds. Aunt Peggy’s shown me photos of Steve from Lehigh.” Sharon grinned. Across the room, Darcy was biting her lip while Cameron told a joke.

“Yup,” Jane said.

“But she’s so...va-va-voom-ish?” Sharon said. On her second day at SHIELD, Darcy had decided to wear something more dressy. For her, that meant polka dots.

“She has a whole Marilyn Monroe thing,” Jane said. “You know how Marilyn’s co-stars and real-life husbands were all shy or nerdy types?”

“I guess Joe DiMaggio was kinda shy-looking, wasn’t he?” Sharon said, thoughtfully.

 

***

Week 2 for Team Science!

Triskelion headquarters

Washington, DC

 

Darcy got a phone call on Tuesday morning that Fury wanted to see her and Jane. That day. She groaned. “What?” Jane said.

“Did you set anything on fire when I was gone yesterday?” she asked.

“No,” Jane said.

“I can tell when you’re lying,” Darcy said.

“I just burned the Pop Tarts. Where were you, anyway?” Jane asked. “You were gone for thirty minutes.”

“I went down to the lobby coffee shop, that’s all,” Darcy said. “It takes a while to wait in line.”

“Did it take a while because the coffee shop is near Cam’s desk?” Jane asked.

“Maybe,” Darcy admitted. She’d flirted with Cam like crazy. They were supposed to have lunch today in the cafeteria. It was casual. Sort of. If by casual, Darcy meant that she was totally crushing on Cam. She’d already started thinking of fun dates. All the DC museums were free. There were several Hitchcock movies playing this week as part of a local movie festival. Darcy loved Hitchcock. Plus, being a little scared was the perfect excuse to cling to someone’s arm.

“What does Fury want?” Jane asked as they left for his office.

“I have no idea, which is nerve-wracking,” Darcy said.

 

When they got there, Fury looked up at them from behind his desk. The man in the chair in front turned to look at them, too. It was Coffee Commando. Great, Darcy thought. This wasn’t going to be good.

“Lewis, Foster,” Fury said. “Meet your temporary security agent for that conference in Blacksburg next week, Commander Brock Rumlow.”

“Why is he doing security for us?” Darcy said, horrified. Jane looked mad.

“I had a rough landing on my last mission,” Rumlow said coolly. That was when Darcy noticed the sling on his arm.

“You’re his light duty, Lewis,” Fury said, chuckling, “so he’ll look before he leaps next time.”

“I did look. It was the airflow current,” Rumlow said defensively.

“There’s an airflow current that blinds you to pine trees?” Fury asked, steepling his hands. Darcy tried really hard not to laugh. She really did. It was mean to laugh at the injured.

 

“Did you have to laugh so hard you had stomach cramps?” Rumlow asked bitterly, as the three of them left Fury’s office. The director had even joined in.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “It’s so _difficult_ for me, on account of me being so ditzy.” She twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “Jane, should I go champagne or platinum blonde?” she asked, stepping onto the elevator.

“I dunno, Darce,” Jane said, hitting the door close button. Rumlow had to stick his hand in to stop it.

“Lewis, I’m sorry. That was rude,” he said. “I don’t know what Sharon said--”

“She didn’t say anything. I was outside the door,” Darcy said.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. They rode the elevator to the lab in an awkward silence. Darcy stepped off first, then Jane.

“I notice you don’t have much to say now,” Jane said archly. Darcy had gone ahead.

“Foster, I--” he said.

“Leave her alone. She likes Cameron Klein. She’s not interested in having sex with you. At all. She doesn’t do casual flings with assholes,” Jane said. She’d noticed how frequently Rumlow looked at Darcy. First, that day with Steve in the cafeteria, then in the elevator, sometimes when they were getting coffee. Darce had no idea, of course. She was preoccupied with Cameron, busy listening to music, or carrying Jane’s stuff. She’d missed it. He was actually pretty subtle, Jane thought. For a complete asshole. Who landed on trees.

 

Karma, she thought, as she rejoined Darcy in the lab. Definitely karma for all the times Jane had seen him looking at Darcy’s boobs.

 

***

Darcy went downstairs to find Cameron and flirt a little at lunch. She’d brought Jane a sandwich, because Jane didn’t want to leave her readouts. With any luck, Cameron would invite her to dinner or something. What if she asked him to go see _Spellbound_ with her?

 

“Hi,” Darcy said, sitting down at the cafeteria table next to him.

“Hey,” he said. “You made it. Where’s Jane?”

“I can’t pry her out of the lab,” Darcy said, laughing, “but I had to escape. The buzz of the fluorescents was making me all _Joe Versus the Volcano_.”

“Oh, man, don’t you think that movie is underrated?” Cameron asked.

“Totally. Meg Ryan is completely underrated in general,” Darcy said.

“Agreed,” he said. Darcy smiled at him. They were so compatible, she thought. She’d told Cameron that a classic movie she wanted to see was playing locally when they were interrupted. Another analyst joined them.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Jim.”

“Darcy Lewis,” she said, wishing they could be alone. Still, she chatted with Jim. He was a nice guy. He told her lots of jokes while Cam ate quietly. Why was he being so shy, Darcy wondered?

“Lewis! Lewis!” a voice called. Darcy turned. It was the asshole. Rumlow. He was walking into the cafeteria, still in his shoulder sling. Darcy turned back to Cameron and rolled her eyes dramatically.

“What do you want, douchecanoe?” she muttered under her breath. Cameron laughed. The analyst next to Cameron grinned, too.

“He is a douchecanoe,” Jim whispered. Darcy grinned at him.

“We can’t run, can we?” she asked.

“He’d just shoot us,” Jim said.

“He only has one good arm,” Darcy said. “Two of us might make it?” Cameron laughed. A second later, Rumlow was at her elbow.

“Lewis,” Rumlow said. “We need to talk about your security for the conference.”

“Now?” Darcy complained. “I’m trying to get Cam to go see _Spellbound_ with me and you interrupt for that?” she asked.

“What’s _Spellbound_?” Cameron asked.

“Old Hitchcock movie,” Rumlow said, before Darcy could answer. She glared at him. Could he not get a clue? Why was he barging in on her conversational flirting?

“I don’t really like old movies,” Cameron said. “Especially black and white ones.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, disappointed.

“It’s a good movie,” Rumlow said. God, Darcy thought, she truly hated this man.

“We should get back,” Cameron said, checking his phone. “I’ve got those reports.”

“Yeah, Fury’s in a mood today,” Jim said.

“We’ll let you talk about your conference stuff, too,” Cameron said.

“Bye, guys,” Darcy said sadly. He and Jim stood up, tossed their trash in the trash cans, then left the cafeteria. Darcy was alone at the table with Rumlow.

“Bye guys?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Are you just oblivious or what?” Darcy hissed.

“What?” he said.

“I’m trying to get Cameron to see a movie with me and you just barged in,” she said.

“Jim was here,” he said.

“But he’s friends with Jim. You make him nervous,” Darcy said.

“Oh, so the fact that he won’t make plans with you is my fault?” he said brusquely. Darcy leaned back, feeling slightly attacked. He’d spoken so loudly, people at a nearby table looked at them. “Sorry,” he said. “That came out wrong.”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “Conference thing,” she said crisply, missing Cameron’s gentle smile already. She took out her tablet and stylus. “What do we need?”

“We’ve got clearance for a SHIELD vehicle and all the quinjets are booked for next week, so I’ll drive you," he said.

"In a sling?" she said.

"Yes. Optimal route is 4 hours,” he said. “I’ve already booked rooms at the conference location.”

“I usually do that,” Darcy said.

“I picked rooms for safety,” he said.

“Really?” Darcy said.

“You want to be off the ground floor, but not so far up that it’s challenging to evacuate in a fire. Away from the elevators, but not too isolated,” he said airily.

“A delicate balance,” Darcy said sarcastically. She knew all this. Her mom sent it to her in AARP emails.

“Actually, yes,” he said seriously. “We’re in three adjoining rooms--”

“Three?” Darcy said. “Jane and I always stay together.”

“You don’t have to now,” he said. “SHIELD has given you clearance for single-occupancy rooms on official work trips.”

“Isn’t it safer if we’re rooming together?” Darcy said. “Us two delicate ladies, all alone in the big scary world?”

“Take this seriously,” he said, a quiet note in his voice. “The work Jane does is--” He paused, as if he was trying to work it out.

“What?” she said.

“It’s valuable,” he said.

“I know. I feed her, make her bathe, and try to keep her from setting toaster fires. It’s been a round-the-clock job for me since Puente Antiguo,” she said. He chuckled.

“Toaster fires?” he said.

“Had one yesterday. I was gone less than forty-five minutes,” she said.

“And did Fury know you’d left the building?” he asked. “Are you allowed to leave her without adult supervision?”

“I was in the building,” Darcy said.

“Doing what?” he said, sounding curious.

“Getting coffee and flirting with Cameron Klein,” she said, sighing. He looked at her oddly. “I wish he’d see _Spellbound_ with me this week, it might change his mind about old movies.”

“Where’s it showing?” he asked.

“The Avalon,” she said. “I’ve never been.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “You’ll have a good time, even if you go with Klein.”

“Why are you so rude to him?” she said.

“He’s a child,” Rumlow said.

“Just because he’s not all Alpha-y,” she began, but Rumlow stood up. He looked down at her with an odd expression.

“I’m not talking about his job or his biceps, Lewis,” he said. Then he left her sitting there.

 

***

Still Week 2 for Team Science!

Avalon Theater

Washington, DC

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Jane, mayday.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **What’s wrong? Did you miss your movie?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No, it hasn’t started yet, but the asshole is here.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: ** Who?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Rumlow.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: ** Oh.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **You could leave?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’m not leaving. He ran off my Cam this week & crashed MY movie. I just have to hide.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **Please tell me you’re not crawling on the sticky floor or something?

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **I thought you said Cam didn’t like old movies?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I just pulled my hat down more.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Totally not the point, Jane.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Thank God I like to sit up front. I don’t think he’s seen me.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** This is the one time #shortpeopleproblems has paid off.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **Nobody likes to sit in the first row as much as you, you tiny weirdo.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’m too short for anyone to sit in front of me, okay?

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **Just go all the way to the back.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** The screen is too far away then. You know how I like to see all the details. Okay, previews starting. Talk soon.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Got your Jr. Mints [heart emoji]

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **I looooooove u

 

Darcy was eating a few of the Sno-Caps left in her candy box--Jane, bizarrely, liked Junior Mints, so Darcy had bought her a box to take home--while she waited for everyone else to leave. She didn’t want to run into Rumlow. Plus, she always stayed for the credits, so she could see who did costume design or if there was an end-credits scene. She loved those. She was crunching the Sno-Caps and wondering why they didn’t make them in more fun colors--seriously, wouldn’t they be cool as, like, Rainbo-Caps?--when someone spoke. “Lewis?” a voice said. Uh-oh, she thought, suppressing a groan. He was standing there, just looking at her. “You didn’t come with Cameron?” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I thought--” he trailed off.

“What?” Darcy repeated. The lights came on and an usher came to sweep up the popcorn.

“Nevermind,” he said.

“No, you need to tell me,” Darcy said sharply.

“He was here,” Rumlow said finally.  Not with her, Darcy realized, with a sinking feeling. She stood up to leave, looping her messenger strap over one shoulder. Damn it, she thought. He’d come without her? If Rumlow hadn’t run him off with his stupid conference meeting that could have been an email….

 

The man in question walked with her as they left the theater, went through the lobby and out into the dark. “Would you like to get a drink? Maybe talk about the movie?” he asked.

“Um,” Darcy said, surprised, “I promised Jane I would be home.” Inwardly, she was fuming. But she didn’t want him to know how upset she was over Cameron. It would only make him more pompous or whatever.

“Sure,” he said. His voice sounded skeptical. It bugged her. She was just about to say something when he suddenly said, “you know what your problem is? You want a little boy.”

“Excuse me?” Darcy said.

“You think you want a little boy that you can mother like you do Foster,” he said bluntly, “but Klein and guys like him will disappoint you.”

Darcy almost sprained her eyes, it was so difficult not to roll them. “As opposed to what, a little girl?” she said. Was this asshole actually _negging_ her? Jesus.

“A man,” he said. “A grown man.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. That was probably just code for ‘old man like me’ or something. “Please explain,” she said dryly. “Enlighten me, O wise one.”

“Someone more emotionally mature wouldn’t jerk you around like this,” he said. Where did he get off saying that, Darcy wondered? What the hell did he know? Darcy realized he was looking at her expectantly. She was saved from forming a response by how closely she’d parked.

“This is my car,” she said. Her and Jane’s little blue Corolla had a CoExist bumper sticker customized with an added symbol for Mew-Mew. It still made her smile. “Have a nice night, Rumlow,” she said dryly.

“You don’t want a drink?” he asked. “Because, as I see it, you deserve one. Cameron blew you off,” he said.

“I’m afraid I’m too busy,” Darcy said. “I have to go _bleach_ my hair, so people will know that the coffee-spilling ditz with the enormous tatas is coming as soon as they see me.” She shut her car door sharply. What a lousy night, Darcy thought, as she pulled out of the parking space. A few feet away, Rumlow was still standing there, watching her. He was a rude, weird asshole.  

 

***

 

Still that night

Darcy and Jane's condo

Washington, DC

 

On her way home, Darcy stopped and bought a French silk pie. She loved French silk pie. “That bad a night, huh?” Jane said, when she saw the yellow grocery store pie box in Darcy’s bag at home.

“Ughhhhh. He sucks eggs. Ostrich-sized smelly eggs,” Darcy said.

"Who?" Jane said.

“Asshole Rumlow. He tried to get me to have a drink with him! Can you freaking believe that?” Darcy filled her in on their conversation--Cam, Rumlow's negging, everything.

“What did you say?” Jane said, tensing.

“That I had to go home and do my roots if I was going to be the dumb blonde he thought I was,” Darcy said, laughing. “I can believe he tried that pick-up artist negging crap with me!”

“I know!” Jane said. She was secretly relieved. 

“I didn’t know that was still a thing,” Darcy said.

“He’s too old to change tactics,” Jane said. “I’m disappointed in Cam, though. I thought he was a _mensch._ ”

“Yeah, me, too,” Darcy said. “It was such a bizarre night. Coffee Commando tried to neg me!”

“You want to hear the saddest part? You might have actually been charmed into having a drink with him if he done a weirdo magic trick instead,” Jane said, laughing so hard that she snorted. “I can see him, pulling a scarf out of his sleeve in the parking lot!”

“Shut up, Jane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head canon, if Steve had known about Sharon's relationship to Peggy before they met, he probably wouldn't ever think of dating her. But Steve would be SO proud of her. I see him going all around DC, introducing her as "Peggy's very accomplished great-niece who works at SHIELD now" and bragging on her and generally being oblivious to her being all, "Steve!"-embarrassed about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy & Jane shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Still Week 2

Washington, DC

Jane and Darcy’s condo

 

 

They were late to work the next day. Darcy overslept and ran around the condo with wet hair, gathering Jane’s crazy notes while she yelled at Jane to get up. “Janey! We’re going to miss the next train!” she said.

“Mmmfpph,” Jane said. “Five more minutes,” she slurred.

“No, no, get up,” Darcy said.

“No,” Jane said.

“Get up,” Darcy said.

“No,” Jane said, burrowing more into the pillow.

“Thank God you’re short, too,” Darcy said. She dragged Jane out of bed, pulled her into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. “Clothes off, get in,” she said, splashing a little shower water on Jane’s face. Jane was refusing to open her eyes.

“Ughhhhhh,” Jane whined, glaring at her. “Fine, I’m going, I’m going.”

“I’ll be back in five minutes to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep in there,” Darcy said, leaving Jane to get in the shower.

“Can you get my notes?” Jane said.

“Already done!” Darcy said.

“Coffee?” Jane whined from the shower.

“You get coffee if you hurry!” Darcy said. “We’ve got 15 minutes to meet the next train to Triskelion.”

“Bite me!” Jane yelled back.

 

Somehow--it was Darcy’s ability to get Jane to hurry, but she never, ever vocalized it, for fear of the Wrath of Fosterus Professorius--they actually made the train. “Yay!” Darcy said, once they’d made it to the lobby. “Only 9 minutes late.”

“Why does that matter?” Jane said grumpily. She’d been slurping her coffee passive-aggressively on the train. It was one of those days for her. Darcy knew she’d be normal and recovered with an hour of quiet lab time and a second cup of caffeine, but it was dangerous to poke the bear beforehand.

“We can blame nine minutes on a train error,” Darcy said. “There’s a window of plausibility if anyone asks.”

“Like who?” Jane said venomously. Anyone who asked would be in trouble, Darcy thought.

“Fury?” Darcy suggested.

“Let him try,” Jane said grimly. “I’ll quit.”

 

***

 

They got off the elevator on the lab floor. There was someone leaning against the glass door of Jane’s lab. He stood up. “You’re late,” he said. “Why are you late?” He didn’t sound critical, merely concerned, but it was exactly the wrong thing. Brock Rumlow didn’t notice--or maybe didn’t understand--the significance of Darcy’s frantic head-shake and mouthed _no_.

“Fuck you, fuckface,” Jane hissed, unlocking the lab door and stomping in. She slammed the door in his face. Brock looked at Darcy.

“I tried to warn you,” Darcy said. When he tried to follow Darcy inside, Jane turned around and yelled at him.

“No! Out of my lab! You can stay in the hallway for your protective detail,” she said.

“Is she serious?” Brock said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I’ll get you a chair.” She rolled one out for him and he looked at her.

“You’re the sole survivor of those outbursts, aren’t you?” he asked.

“She’s just a little grumpy before her second cup of coffee,” Darcy explained.

“A little?” he said.

“You should have seen her when Thor was MIA,” Darcy said. “Today was comparatively mild. Heartbroken and Bifrost-vexed Jane, she was really scary.”

“If you say so,” he said.

 

A few minutes later, Darcy looked up to check on him and realized he was missing. “Rumlow’s gone,” she said to Jane. “You frightened him away!”

“Ughh, are you doing _Moulin Rouge!_?” Jane asked. “I haven’t had a enough coffee for you to put your scarf over your head and sing “Like A Virgin” today, okay?”

“I’m offended that you don’t like my Baz Luhrmann-inspired take on the story of you and Thor’s relationship. Remember how often I did _Moulin Rouge!_ bits in London? The show must goooooo oooooon,” Darcy joked.

“Shhhh,” Jane grumbled. There was a knock on the glass. Brock was standing there, holding a tray of coffees and a sheet of paper pressed against the glass. _Peace offering?_ it said.

“You’re back,” Darcy said, opening the door.

“I missed Jane’s hospitality and charm,” he said sarcastically. Darcy giggled. But she let him in anyway. Coffee was enough to get past Jane’s bad side. Usually.

 

***

He insisted on doing a security sweep of their condo at the end of the day. At Jane’s raised eyebrow, he apparently decided to bargain. “I’ll drive you home? There’s a drive-thru Starbucks between the office and your place, I think?” he said.

“You’re learning very well my young padawan,” Darcy whispered to him, as Jane packed up her notes. Jane was a little miffed that his presence meant she was leaving at a more normal hour, Darcy could tell.

“Any other wisdom to impart?” he asked.

“She likes that marble pound cake they have at Starbucks,” Darcy said.

“It has no flavor,” he said. “And it’s 500 calories.” He sounded offended.

“I know,” Darcy said. “I miss the lemon ginger cookies they used to have when I was young. Back then, the nearest Starbucks was in Arlington or Charlottesville, so it was for special trips. How did you know about the pound cake?”

“I dated a girl who liked it,” he said.

“Are you bugged more by the calories or the flavor?” Darcy asked him, as Jane locked the lab. The one thing Jane could be trusted with was her lab keys. She cared more about those than her checking account.

“Both,” he said. “For 500 calories, something should taste good. It’s probably jammed full of flavorless canola oil or something.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said neutrally. Whenever people talked about calories, she heard the _Peanuts_ wah-wah-wah sound. Just like at conference panels with Jane.

They were getting off the elevator when he looked at her. “You drove to Arlington for Starbucks?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said. “I drove to Arlington or Charlottesville because they had a Sephora. Usually for my birthday.” Looking up, Jane groaned.

“What?” he said.

“She loves makeup,” Jane said. “The first time I went makeup shopping with her I almost passed out.”

“Jane thinks $20 is too much to spend on makeup,” Darcy explained. “But nice eye shadows last longer, Jane, I keep telling you.”

“At this point, your eye makeup collection will out live you,” Jane said. Darcy shrugged.

 

“She wasn’t lying about your makeup collection,” Brock said, as he was looking around her bedroom. She kept it all arranged in trays on the dresser, so it wouldn’t be in Jane’s way in the bathroom.

“That’s actually pretty small for me. I haven’t bought anything new since we’ve moved around so much,” she said. “Just been using up my current stash.”

“This? This is small?” he said, jerking his thumb at a her lipsticks. “There are twenty tubes here. And how many bottles of perfume?” He counted. “Three?” Once they’d decided to stay in one place, Darcy had had a little fun restocking her perfume at a DC mall with the signing bonus Fury had sent her and Jane. You couldn’t fly with liquids easily, so she’d been deprived of anything other than some roll-on perfumes from Pacifica she’d bought in Hawaii.

“Phhft. It’s one bottle, plus some roll-ons. Like Jane, you’re clearly unfamiliar with beauty bloggers. Are you checking my underwear drawer for bombs next?” Darcy asked. He’d already looked in her closet.

“Did you want me to?” he asked, sounding flirtatious. She rolled her eyes. Mr. Pick Up Artist was clearly always on the make. He sniffed her perfume bottle. “Pink Sugar? You’re not one for subtlety, are you?” he said, turning to look at her.

“Step away from the Pink Sugar, wise-ass,” she said.

“I think you could have your pal Thor hit me with Mjolnir and it would be less strong than that,” he said, chuckling.

“I wear the other perfumes at work. They’re lighter. That is my date one,” she said. At least, that was what she was planning. If Cam would ever go out with her.

“Your date one? Is it supposed to sound like a slang term for pussy?” he said teasingly. She rolled her eyes.

“It smells like cotton candy. You’re the one with the dirty mind. Anymore free advice?” she said wryly.

“This is nice,” he said, pointing to the artwork next to her bed.

“Oh, that’s my last birthday present from Jane. When she won that big award, she used some of the prize money to buy me my own Elizabeth St. Hilaire,” Darcy said. “They’re collage paintings. She does an underpainting and then collages over top of it.”

“And you like flamingos?” he said. Her collage was of a brightly-colored flamingo.

“I love them. I named him Floyd,” Darcy told him. He made a face. “What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Just say it,” she said.

“You’re such a girl,” he said, chuckling, as he left the room.

“I am a girl,” she told him, rolling her eyes.

 

“Do you think Pink Sugar sounds like a slang term for lady business?” Darcy asked Jane as she poured them cups of coffee. Rumlow was checking Jane’s room and the sliding glass door to the back balcony.

“No. Did he say that to you?” Jane asked, frowning.

“Uh-huh, he’s such a typical perv,” Darcy said. “Do you think it’s all the working out? Like the testosterone in his system makes him like a bunny on Viagra? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jane said. She wasn’t going to tell Darcy that she thought Rumlow had a thing about her. She was too afraid that Darcy might say something to him as a joke and then he’d really be chasing her around the lab, once it was out in the open. He’d assume she was interested. Guys like that could be relentless if a woman was a challenge, Jane thought. Darcy would be happier with a Cameron Klein type, anyway. Or Steve. Jane had been secretly hoping Steve and Darcy might get together now that they were all in DC.

 

“Did you want coffee?” Darcy asked Rumlow, when he came back from checking everything.

“Sure,” he said. “Everything looks fine, but I’d like to get you a security bar to go in that sliding glass door, just for safety."

“Where would you find something like that?” Darcy asked, pouring him a cup. “Black, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.

“Is it like a As Seen on TV thing?” Darcy asked.

“No,” he said, laughing. “I’ll get you a weighted metal bar. I took measurements for the door already.”

“Why a metal bar?” Jane asked.

“They’re heavy, but thin and hard to reach or get a grip on, so if anyone tries to get in, they’ll have trouble with it,” he said. They were sitting there talking when there was a roll of thunder and a crack of lightning. Rumlow looked at the balcony.  “What the--?” he said.

“Thor,” Jane said brightly. “He’s early!” She ran out to him.

“They’re like that, huh?” Brock said to Darcy. Thor and Jane were making out wildly.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “The sex noises are so loud.” She laughed. He frowned.

“You want to see a movie or something? I’m guessing she’s safe with him,” he said.

“Uh-huh, she is,” Darcy said. Jane and Thor did have a tendency to sex-break furniture (lamps, bed frames, headboards…) but she didn’t think Jane would appreciate her oversharing.

“What Hitchcock is the Avalon showing tonight?” he asked. The Hitchcock festival was still on-going. Darcy checked her phone.

“ _Rear Window_ ,” Darcy said. “It starts at 8:30.”

“Come on,” he said. “We’ll give them some privacy. You hungry or are you still full of white chocolate mocha from Starbucks?” he teased. She was tapping on her phone.

“I sense that you’re mocking me,” Darcy said, “but I got the tickets in my name, so you better be nice if you want to see Jimmy Stewart solve a murder.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“I am still full of latte, though,” she admitted. She hadn’t had a white chocolate mocha in a while and had forgotten how rich they were.

“I was concerned you might go into sugar shock,” he said dryly, as she waved goodbye at Jane and Thor. She’d left them a note, too. They tended to be focused when they reunited.

“I should have gotten the tall one,” she said.

“The tall one?” he said.

“It’s the smallest one,” she said. He chuckled.

***

 

“I love this place,” Darcy said happily. The Avalon was a historic DC theater. She beamed at the ticket guy and showed him their ticket purchase on her phone. He printed out two tickets for them.

“I’ve got it,” Rumlow said. He’d already taken his wallet out.

“Oh, I paid already,” she said. “Online.”

“I’ll get concession, then,” he said, insistent, as they walked inside. “You have a membership yet? I get a discount.”

“No, but I might get one,” she said. “I think we’ve got seats under the mural this time.” She’d assumed he wouldn’t want to sit in the front row, so she’d picked a second row seat. The Avalon had a ceiling mural of Mercury tossing a film reel. It was really cool.

“You want wine or beer with your popcorn?” he asked.

“Ummm,” Darcy said. “Diet Coke?” Wine or beer was too date-y, she thought. This definitely wasn’t a date. He sent her into the theater alone with her ticket and the drinks while he waited in the line for fresh popcorn. She was surprised when he brought her back an enormous tub.

“I thought you needed salt to balance out your sugar intake,” he teased.

“You just want to eat the popcorn,” she said, handing him his beer. He pretended to be all healthy, but she’d seen the way he inhaled when they walked in and the popcorn machine was going.

“You like movies, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “My mom used to take me to movies when I was too small to hold down the seat,” she said. “I love the old production company and studio fanfare things, too.”

“Fanfare?” he asked.

“That music with the 20th Century Fox logo or the Tri-Star Pegasus. The horse that jumped over the logo?” she said. “Remind me to show you at work tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Stop mocking me,” she whispered, as the previews and turn-off-your-phone messages started.

“I’m serious,” he said.

 

***

Brock met them in the lobby at Triskelion on Friday. “I should have picked you up,” he said without preamble.

“It’s okay, we like the train,” Darcy said, shepherding Jane by the elbow. Jane--energized by getting some Asgardian--was still writing down notes. Thor trotted happily beside her, waving at people.

“I have signed many pieces of paper,” Thor said. “The sojourners of the train are very hospitable.”

“He’s never ridden the train before?” Brock asked Darcy in a quiet voice.

“Someone told him the trains were cramped, he was afraid he wouldn’t fit,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” Brock said.

“It’s actually a realistic concern for him. He has trouble flying coach and he’s too big for rollercoasters, which makes him sad,” Darcy explained. Brock chuckled. They got on the elevator to go to the lab. Everyone greeted Thor happily and eyed Jane nervously. She looked a little frenetic. There was a smudge of ink across her cheekbone.

“Darce, where’d I put my pen?” Jane asked. “This one’s out of ink.”

“Behind your ear, Science! Mama,” Darcy said. “Let me have the dead one.”

“Oh,” Jane said, feeling behind the wrong ear.  Darcy pried the empty pen out of Jane’s hand and gave her the one from behind her ear.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, as Jane started to scribble again.

“Why are you thanking her?” Brock said.

“I like to reward her for letting go of things, it’s important,” Darcy said.

“Is she a PhD or a golden retriever?” Brock snarked.

“Hellooo, Thor is a golden, Jane is a Jack Russell, obviously,” she whispered back, rolling her eyes.

“What are you?” he asked.

“I dunno. A pug?” she said, scrunching her face in thought. She liked pugs.

“Nah,” he said. “That’s not you.”

“You’re obviously a Doberman,” Darcy said.

“You think so?” he said, looking pleased.

  
***

 

Darcy went to get coffee in the breakroom with Brock once they had Thor and Jane settled in. “Does she always do calculations in his lap?” Brock asked, as they walked.

“He likes to help,” Darcy said. “And he misses her when he’s gone.” That made her feel a weird pang. Would anybody besides Jane miss her if she Mew-Mew’d into another realm or something?

“What?” Brock said.

“Nothing,” Darcy said. They turned into the breakroom and found a bunch of the Alpha guys, including Jack. “Hi!” Darcy said, smiling at him.

“G’day, Darce,” Jack said. “Brock.”

“How you adjusting to light duty, boss?” one of the STRIKE guys asked. Darcy recognized him as the one who’d talked about her boobs.

“Fine, Petersen,” Brock said. Darcy squeezed past Jack and started working on the coffee. Behind her, the STRIKE guys were talking about their next mission. They were leaving in an hour or so.

“Is it true Thor is here?” one of them asked. It took Darcy a minute to realize he was talking to her, not Brock. “Sorry,” he said, smiling, when she’d turned around. “I’m Mike. Mike Hernandez,” he said.

“Yes, he got in last night,” she said.

“Would he want to go with us?” Petersen asked.

“He might want to go,” Darcy said, pulling a face.

“What?” Brock said.

“Never tell Jane that I mentioned that Thor might be willing to leave when he just got back _yesterday_ ,” Darcy said. “Him going places is a sore point. He left once and didn’t come back for two years,” she explained to Jack. “He couldn’t get back, but she didn’t know that.”

“Oh. I could see where they might put a crimp in the relationship, love. Could I meet Thor?” Jack asked.

“Sure,” Darcy said. “I’ll introduce you as soon as I finish these.” She was pouring the coffee.

“I’ve got them,” Brock said. “Take Jack to meet the jolly blonde giant.” There was something slightly dismissive in his tone. Darcy repressed a flinch. Was he just a schmuck around his Alpha bros, she wondered? He’d been really fun when it was just them. She shrugged it off--or tried to, anyway--and escorted Jack towards the lab, trying to chat normally.

 

***

 

Darcy was telling Jack a funny Jane and Thor story when she spotted Cameron Klein standing in the hall, talking to someone in an office. She was going to wave to him when Cameron caught sight of her and actually stepped inside the office and shut the door. To avoid her, she realized, with a horrible sinking feeling. He didn’t want to talk to her. She kept talking to Jack and tried to pretend like everything was normal and cool and fine. Thank goodness Jack hadn’t noticed; he was too happy about meeting Thor. She’d introduced the three of them and Jack was asking Jane thoughtful questions when Darcy slipped out to the ladies room to pee and mope. She just needed a minute alone in the stall to be sad. If she told Jane about Cam, Jane would insist she was perfect and he was stupid, which was nice, but not what she needed right now.

 She was doing a deep breathing exercise when two women walked in. She could see one of them was wearing tactical boots; the other, a pair of business casual heels. “I heard Thor was here,” the woman in business casual said to the woman in tactical boots.

“Yeah, he tags along with Alpha sometimes,” Tactical Boots said. “They’re short one with Rumlow on light duty.”

“Is it true they’ve got Rumlow helping out Foster’s assistant in her lab? I bet he _loves_ that,” Business Casual said.

“Yeah, you know how he is about not working,” Tactical Boots said. “He probably hates carrying coffee and Foster’s equipment.”

“Workaholic,” the other woman said firmly.

“Totally. But get this, the assistant is the one chasing Cameron Klein around. You know the one he’s avoiding, that’s her,” Tactical Boots said. “Jim is joking that she’s his stalker now.”

“What’s she look like?” Business Casual asked.

“I’ve never seen her. But supposedly, she’s brunette, short, kinda chubby,” Tactical Boots said. “That’s what Jim said.”

“That figures,” Business Casual said.

“What do you mean?” Tactical Boots said.

“It’s always the sort of frumpy girls who like skinny guys, you know? Haven’t you ever noticed that? It’ll be some really scrawny guy with a shyness problem and some obnoxious girl who looks like Lena Dunham chasing him,” Business Casual said.

 

When they walked out, Darcy put on a brave face and marched back to the lab. She really missed Hawaii today. She stopped in the doorway of the lab. Jane was working with some atmospheric readouts, Jack and Thor were nowhere to be seen, and Rumlow was sitting next to her desk, tapping his pen. He looked irritable.  She had to work up the nerve to go in, she felt so upset. “Where’d Jack and Thor go?” Darcy asked.

“Out on the mission,” Rumlow said, sounding glum.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She checked emails. “Did Jane yell?”

“A little,” he said. “He promised to be back soon.”

“Did he swear on Mew-Mew?” she asked.

“Huh?” he asked.

“Mjolnir,” Darcy said.

“I don’t know,” he said, almost snappish. “How would I know?” he asked. She felt his tone like a slap. Darcy sat there for a second, then stood up. “Hey, where are you going?” he asked.

“To get more paper,” she said, grabbing a travel-sized packet of tissues off her desk. They had their own supply closet. She could cry in there. Only he followed her in, so she couldn’t.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just looking for paper, okay?” she kept her back to him, so he couldn’t see her face.

“It’s right here,” he said. “Behind you, for God’s sake.”

“Please just go,” she said, losing it utterly. Her tears dripped on Jane’s backup keyboard and a plastic accordion-style file carrier.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I snapped at you. I’m just frustrated that I’m not on that mission. Wait, that came out wrong,” he said. “I didn’t mean--”

“It’s really not you,” she said. It wasn’t. “Just give me a minute? Please don’t tell Jane. She’ll want to slap some women whose names I don’t know.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding reluctant. “Are you sure--”

“Yeah, I just need a second,” Darcy said, keeping her hand over her face and her back to him. She hated crying in front of people. He left. She leaned against the shelving and cried into her tissue.

 

***

Darcy told Jane what happened at home that night, as she was doing laundry. “I can’t believe Cameron is avoiding you and I really want to slap those bathroom women,” Jane said angrily.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t tell you,” Darcy said. “I don’t want to spend my money on bail. I got a Sephora coupon today and I want to use it instead. Now give me that sweater, you’ve been wearing it for two days.”

“I wear tank tops underneath. It’s not that dirty--”

“Jane, c’mon,” Darcy said. “Gimme.”

“I thought Rumlow had come onto you or something. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I threatened him a little while you were crying in the supply closet,” Jane said. She sighed and pulled the sweater over her head.

“I didn’t tell him. Is that why he was lingering in the hallway? Because you scared him again?” Darcy asked.

“I scare him?” Jane said, brightening.

“Yes, he told me the other day that he was very happy you didn’t have a gun,” Darcy said, dropping a laundry pod into the machine. “I’m so glad we have a washer dryer at home now.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, writing a note.

“You’d be more impressed if you did your own laundry. Wait, why would you think Rumlow would come on to me?” Darcy said.

“Um,” Jane said, scrambling for a plausible lie, “because he seems like a butt grabber?”

“Like that guy on the Paris metro who tried to rub up on you,” Darcy said. “Huh, I guess I don’t see it. He never touches me or anything weird.”

“He doesn’t?” Jane asked.

“No, I mean, we share popcorn, but he’s strictly a friend, you know?” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” Jane said. Darcy didn’t notice the implied question. She was too busy wondering what about her made Cameron Klein want to hide.

“Am I an obnoxious, pushy, man-repeller?” Darcy said.

“Noooooooooooooooo,” Jane said. “If I ever find those women…”

 

Darcy was watching TCM in her pjs when the doorbell rang. Jane had passed out--too much fun with Thor on, ironically, Thursday--and was snoring, face down, on the dining room table. Darcy went to see who it was. She peered through the peephole. Brock Rumlow was standing on the other side of the door. She opened it. “You know, when I told you where we lived and gave you access to the building for security, I didn’t think you’d just stop by at 9 on Friday night,” she said, letting him in.

“I was worried about you and I brought gifts,” he said, stepping inside. He held up a bag with his good arm.

“Uh-huh,” she said, locking the door. “What’s that?”

“Cheesecake,” he said.

“You brought me cheesecake?” she said, confused.

“It’s chocolate,” he said. “I thought this might be a PMS---a woman thing,” he corrected, seeing her expression. She folded her arms.

“Really, dude?” she said.

“I also brought _Shadow of a Doubt_ , you said you hadn’t seen it yet,” he said.

“Okay, fine,” she said. She thought he would leave everything with her; instead, he took the cheesecake into her kitchen.

“You want cheesecake first or popcorn?” he asked.

“Popcorn,” she said. “But first I need you to help me get Jane to her room.”

 

***

 

They were sitting on the couch, the popcorn bowl between them, when she told him about the Cameron thing and the women gossiping. “What? He hid from you?” he said.

“You’re the one who said he was blowing me off,” she pointed out.

“He has a thing for Sharon,” Brock told her. “That’s all. I thought he was too chickenshit to tell you, because he has no fucking spine. But that is bullshit. You’re not chubby,” he said.

“I’m glad you’ve focused on the important things, not that people think I’m desperate and sad and a person that Cameron needs to hide from. They probably think I’m, like, _Fatal Attraction_ crazy. I’m a Hitchcock character now, the crazy, stabby, man-repeller girl,” Darcy said, sighing. Brock looked at her and blinked. “What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he said.

“You’re sad about light duty, aren’t you?” she asked, as they watched the previews. She thought he probably hated being stuck in the lab and being here for all her weirdness. He shrugged in response.

“I think you’ll really like this movie, Joseph Cotton’s very good,” he said noncommittally.

“He’s good in _Niagara_. He plays Marilyn Monroe’s husband in that one. It’s a film noir, not a comedy,” Darcy said. “She did a few dark movies early in her career. One where she cheats on Cotton and one where she is a crazy babysitter. I have them.”

“I’d watch Marilyn Monroe as a crazy babysitter,” he said, grinning. They were midway through _Shadow of a Doubt_ \--she’d paused it so he could get them cheesecake--when he looked at her. “I’d fuck you,” he said abruptly.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I don’t think you’re a man-repeller. I mean, it would be a no-strings thing,” he began. “I don’t seriously date--”

“Joseph Cotton is menacing his niece and this is the moment you decide to say that?” Darcy said. “Seriously?”

"Did you want to fool around tonight?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Avalon Theater is a real historic movie theater in DC. Photos of the inside & outside: https://goo.gl/maps/wpUKADyRBCD2
> 
> Elizabeth St. Hilaire is real and my fave artist. Her collage paintings are so cool: https://pin.it/fhpmemvf7ulziq


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian  
> Richard   
> Shiva  
> Anders  
> Cameron?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos.

Still Week 2

Washington, DC 

Darcy & Jane's Condo

 

“Really?” Darcy said, stunned. He couldn’t be serious. He had to be kidding. He did not really mean that. 

“Sure,” he said. “I think I have condoms?”  He sat down his cheesecake on the coffee table and reached for his wallet. Darcy stared at him.

“You’re seriously offering me pity sex?” she told him.

“You think I pity you?” he said.

“Don’t you? Because you feel sorry for me? The girl rejected by Cameron Klein?” she said. 

“It’s sex,” he said, looking at her.

“What does that mean?” she said, genuinely perplexed.

“Getting laid always makes me feel better,” he said, shrugging. 

“Oh,” she said. “That makes sense.” Darcy imagined that he had multiple women he slept with casually. He did travel a lot.  He probably thought of it like charging his phone or something. This was like him offering her a spare charger because her phone was dying or whatever.

“But you don’t want to?” he said, frowning as if he didn’t understand her.

“I don’t think it would help me to have casual sex with anybody when I already feel, um,  undateable, you know?” she said. “It’s not personal. You’re very attractive.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his chin. After a pause, he grinned. “I know. I’m a good-looking guy.”

“Shut up,” she said, threatening him with a pillow.

“Not the cheesecake,” he said. “Never the cheesecake, Lewis.”

“That’s a good rule,” she admitted.

“You couldn’t handle sex with me, anyway,” he teased as she was restarting the movie, “not if you’re used to sex with guys like Klein.” 

“You might kill me,” she said. It wasn’t not true.

“You’d never be able to go back to the Geek squad,” he said, almost cheerfully. They finished  _ Shadow of a Doubt  _ and he looked at her. “What was the name of the Marilyn Monroe one?” he asked.

“ _ Niagara, _ ” she said. “Did you want to watch it? I’ll get it. It’s in my room.” She thought he would want to borrow it, so she brought the sleeve back. 

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve got time. Did you want more popcorn?” he asked. He wanted to stay and watch  _ Niagara _ , she realized, totally perplexed. She’d said no to sex and he still wanted to stay?

  
  


***

 

Very, very early Saturday morning, Jane shuffled out towards the kitchen, then froze. There was a pair of feet visible on her couch. Not Darcy’s feet. Strange feet. Jane stepped tentatively over to the couch. The stranger was snoring and covered in a blanket. She couldn’t see his face. There was a bowl on the coffee table--with a dozen unpopped corn kernels--and the sleeve for some of Darcy’s Marilyn Monroe movies. Their burglar-potential-murderer had made popcorn? Jane crept into Darcy’s room in a panic. “Darcy! Darcy!” she hissed, shaking her. “Where’s your taser?”

“Nightstand,” Darcy muttered, half-asleep. “Why?”

“Wake up, wake up! There’s a murderer on the couch!” Jane said. 

“Okay,” Darcy said sleepily. “Wake Brock, he’ll know what to do….”

Jane stared at Darcy. “Brock?” she said.

“Mmm-hmm?” Darcy murmured, snuggling into her pillow. 

 

Jane crept back out to the living room and poked at the blanket. “Hey, hey!” she said. Jane pulled the blanket down. Brock Rumlow blinked at her. His hair was standing up at odd angles. 

“Yeah?” he said.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked.

“Sleeping?” he said.

“Bullshit, you’re--you’re trying to get in Darce’s pants,” Jane said. “I see you.” She waved her finger in his face. Very close to his nose. He recoiled, then rubbed his forehead.

“She doesn’t want me in them, Foster,” he grumbled. “I offered, she said no. End of story. Can I have my blanket back?” he asked.

“No,” Jane said.

“I brought chocolate cheesecake,” he said. 

“Oh,” Jane said, “where is it?”

“Kitchen,” he said, gesturing for the blanket. She gave it back and he rolled over to face the back of the couch. As she ate cheesecake for breakfast--it was very good--Jane could hear him snoring.

 

***

 

Darcy had taken a shower and put on some of her Saturday schlub clothes--these were the opposite of club clothes--when Jane knocked. “Come on in,” Darcy said in a game show host voice. She was towel drying her hair and looked up in concern when she saw Jane’s face. “Is something wrong with your calculations?” she asked Jane. That had been what Jane was working on last night.

“No. Does Brock live with us now? He offered to make me scrambled eggs,” Jane asked in a whisper, after she’d shut Darcy’s bedroom door. 

“What? No, he’s just hanging out. He wants to watch more movies,” Darcy said. 

“Darce, he wants to have sex with you,” Jane said.

“I know--well, I mean, he offered, but I think for him, it’s like letting me borrow his phone if mine was missing. No biggie,” Darcy said. She laughed. “He offered to let me use his dick ‘cause I don’t have one right now?” 

“What?” Jane said. “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s honestly kind of fun, if I can turn him down without him being all psycho killer or something? He doesn’t like, do serious relationships or whatever. He’s one of those guys. But he was very upfront about it before we watched  _ Niagara  _ and  _ Some Like It Hot  _ and we’re fine now. He doesn’t even seem upset?” Darcy said. 

 

They spent all day cycling through Darcy’s movies and stuff on Starkflix. After she put Jane down for a nap around six pm, Darcy caught Brock rubbing his shoulder. “You okay?” she asked.

“My shoulder is all whacked from your couch,” he said.

“You could file an injury report, I’d love to see Fury’s face when cause of injury was Jane and Darcy’s couch,” she joked. “Here, I can help, I think. Jane gets knots, ‘cause she packs backpacks like a Sherpa. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” She took off the sling he was wearing and massaged his shoulder.

**“** You give Jane massages?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Don’t make it dirty, you perv,” Darcy said.

“Say dirty again,” he said, chuckling. When she pressed her thumbs sharply into his shoulder blade in revenge, he groaned. 

“Shit, did I hurt you?” she asked.

“No,” he said, sounding a little out of breath. “That’s nice.”

“You sure?” Darcy asked.

“Yes,” he said. She kept going after he nodded, increasing the pressure. She worked her fingers below his shoulder blade and down his lower back. In response, he made a noise that was something between pleasure and pain. She stopped.

“You okay?” she said.

“No, no, it’s great,” he said. “Oh God, I’ve never envied another human being as much as I envy Jane Foster right now. Come be my assistant,” he said. Darcy laughed.

“Hold on, I’ve got a thing,” she said, getting off the couch.

“A what? Come back,” he said. “I’m sad now. The pain has returned.” 

“Are you whining?” she asked from her bedroom.

“Is it working?” he said. Darcy returned holding some small plastic items.

“These are therapy balls from a yoga company,” she said, sitting back down. He choked a little on the beer he was drinking.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“They really work, you can use them on yourself, like lean against a wall for pressure? The yoga people make instructional videos,” she said.

“Where do you use them?” he said teasingly.

“On your lower back, perv,” she said. “See? You roll it and they’re textured to help with knots and stuff. Like smaller versions of foam rollers at the gym.” She rolled it up and down his back, working on the knots below his shoulder and low back.

“Oh God,” he said after several minutes, “that feels so good, Lewis. Don’t stop. I could come from this.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” she said, pausing. 

“God, no, my shoulder is so sore, that feels incredible. I’d pay you large sums of cash to do this for me every night. More if you took your shirt off. I wouldn’t even need sex anymore,” he said. “Come work for me, Lewis. I’ll give you more money and, uh, diamonds or something. You like diamonds, right?”

“Because I’m such a girl?” she said. 

“I never said it was a bad thing,” he wheedled. “Keep going. Please?”

“Why are old men like you such pervs, Grandpa?” she asked.

“C’mon,” he said, “you can’t expect a straight man not to get hard when you touch him like that. Any guy would.”

“Ewwwwwwww, TMI,” Darcy said, taking her hands away. “I’m not touching you anymore.”

“You’re a tease,” he complained playfully. “A total tease.” She rolled her eyes when he turned to look at her. “I need a cold shower now. Go wake Foster,” he said, grinning.

“What? Why?” Darcy asked.

“I owe you dinner after that. A really nice dinner,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Make reservations wherever you want. Are you blushing?”

“No!” she said.

 

Darcy went to wake up Jane. “Wake up, Brock is taking us to dinner,” she said. 

“Yeah?” Jane said sleepily.

“He’s in the shower, but you know how fast men get ready, get up, sleepyhead,” Darcy said.

“Not my shower,” Jane said, frowning in her half-sleepy state.

“I didn’t let him use your shower, I know how you feel about strange men in there.” She’d let a guy she dated in Norway use Jane’s shower once and Jane had walked in on him. Jane had not been happy about surprise Scandinavian butt cheeks. Darcy had, though. Anders had a really cute butt. 

 

“I made us reservations at a really fancy-sounding Chinese place,” she announced, when he emerged from her bedroom. He was dressed at least. He’d borrowed some of Thor’s things: a white v-neck and a pair of jeans.

“Good,” he said. “How tall is the Asgardian?” he asked. His jeans were a little bunched at the ankle, but everything else fit. He was lean, Darcy realized. Strong and lean.

“Taller than you, I think?” she said neutrally. 

“Hey, I’m average,” he said. “My height’s fine.”

“Everybody’s tall to me,” Darcy said, shrugging. “I hardly ever notice how tall men are, really.”

“Because you’re short?” he said, looking confused.

“Yeah,” she said. She was only 5’2 and a half. “I’d be terrible if I ever had to give a police description because I have no clue.”

“You don’t want somebody tall?” he said.

“Nah,” she said. She grinned. “I wouldn’t mind a really short guy, actually.”

“What?” he said.

“I met this really smart, nice guy at one of the universities where Jane was giving a talk and he was closer to my height. It was so...intimate to actually have  _ eye contact  _ with a guy standing up? I’m so used to looking at everyone’s chest and neck, unless I crane my neck at an angle, it made me a little flustered, honestly,” she said. “Nathan was so nice, too. I wonder what happened to him? He was studying sociology.”

“You’re not right,” Brock told her. “You’re not supposed to like Cameron Klein and short guys,” he said, almost scoldingly.

“Phhfft, you sound like one of those evo-psych weirdos looking for retroactive justification for why they like blonde, white Playboy models,” she said. “I’m going to change now.”

Jane came out of her bedroom, dressed to leave, as Darcy was standing up. “She likes male redheads, too,” Jane said. “Tell that to the evolutionary psychology creeps. According to them, nobody likes male redheads.”

“Nobody does,” Brock said, sounding horrified.

“Excuse me, redhead-ness is innately sexy. Those evo-psych guys are lame, anyway,” Darcy said.

“Assholes,” Jane muttered.

“Jane hates evo-psych even more than me,” Darcy said.

“Why?” Brock asked Jane.

“Some asshole evo-psych blogger said Thor would be better off with a seventeen year old, because I was past my prime and my eggs are over thirty,” Jane said bitterly.

 

***

 

“You think redheads are sexy?” Brock asked her, once they were in the restaurant. Darcy grinned at him. 

“Oh, yeah. I think it’s the blushing, since most redheads are pale. Not all redheads, obviously, but the guys we met in London who were naturally redheaded or strawberry blonde were all pale. It’s just so...different, you know? There’s a lit from within thing happening,” she said.

“Lit from within?” he said, skeptically.

“She means you could tell when they were turned on,” Jane said sharply. “She’d flirt with them and they’d turn all pink and you could see it.”

“The neck flushing,” Darcy said, sighing. “And their mouths! Jane, let’s move to Scotland.”

“You hate the cold,” Jane said. “Besides, I got really tired of you eating things suggestively just to make random British men blush.”

“I was never more popular,” Darcy said to Brock.

“She used to make eyes at them in restaurants,” Jane said. “Shamelessly. After Ian moved back to Yorkshire, she even picked up this guy I went on a date with, Richard.”

“He was Irish and very cute and you left in the middle of your date without eating,” Darcy said. Jane rolled her eyes. “I invoked the 5 second rule, basically,”  Darcy explained to Brock. “Jane wasn’t interested in Richard, she’d already met Thor.”

“Five second rule?” he said.

“She dropped him and didn’t come back, he was fair game,” Darcy said. “Also, those voicemails he left for you were really funny.”

“It was awkward for Thor,” Jane said.

“No, Thor was chill. You were the one who developed a twitch whenever he came to pick me up for dates,” Darcy said. “You made Richard uncomfortable.”

“After that, she dated a weird vegan massage therapist named Shiva,” Jane said, giggling.

“And yet, you were so weird about poor Richard that you were more comfortable having Shiva make tofu cannolis in your mom’s kitchen,” Darcy pointed out. She’d really liked Richard; she had been sad when it fizzled out.

“Tofu cannoli?” Brock said, horrified.

“They were really good, actually, he used agave, so they’d be sweet and everything,” Jane said. 

“Is that where you learned to give massages?” Brock asked Darcy. “Tofu guy?”

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me that you gave him a massage,” Jane said in a low voice. “You cannot just do that. I’ve told you to stop. Most men do not understand platonic massage, they aren’t Thor.”

“He has a shoulder injury,” Darcy said.

“She’s not wrong,” Brock told Darcy.

“Ugh, both of you are ridiculously uptight. Why can’t more people be cool like Shiva?” Darcy said.

“He was a part-time nudist,” Jane explained to Brock.

“Summers, huh?” Brock said. Jane nodded, laughing.

“He didn’t cook naked, he wore a robe,” Darcy said defensively.

“So, what I hear Jane saying is that you like weirdos and you really should raise your standards a little?” Brock said. 

“Yes,” Jane said.

“No,” Darcy said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niagara IS a very good movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xvv1lQ65Nw


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has a "Brutal Heart" moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Brock took them home after Chinese on Saturday night. “Do you want to come in for cheesecake and _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_?” Darcy asked. “There’s still some left. Thor will be back in three hours and it’s gone.” Thor had Jack text Jane to say they were en route while the three of them were at dinner; the Asgardian still didn’t have a cell phone.

“She’s not joking. We have time of death on the cheesecake,” Jane said, laughing.

“You’re not sick of me?” he said, grinning.

“No,” Darcy said. She honestly wasn’t. She liked having him around when he was fun.

“Nope,” Jane said. She had been watching Darcy and Brock carefully at dinner that night. They seemed friendly and joking, not besotted, Jane thought. Given all the trouble Darcy had at Triskelion, Jane had decided that it might be good for Darcy to have Brock on her side. Brock was intimidating--at least to most people. Jane wasn’t scared of anyone; she had Thor and Mjolnir. Jane already had texted Sharon to see if she could track down the bathroom chicks and filled her in on Cameron. Sharon was furious.

“Okay,” Brock said, coming inside with them.

“I’ll make coffee. Oh, Jane, did I tell you that I found that commercial song?” Darcy asked.

“You did?” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “It’s in an advertisement for a new tv show that’s on all the time and it’s been driving me nuts, I love it so much,” she explained to Brock. He was getting the cheesecake out of the fridge.

“It’s been driving you crazy because you love it?” he said.

“Yesssssss,” Darcy said.

“What’s it called?” Jane asked.

“Brutal Hearts” by Bedouin Soundclash,” she told Jane. Jane tapped her phone and went to plug it into Darcy’s little travel speaker in the living room. A few seconds later, the sounds were floating through the condo. “Isn’t that great?” Darcy said to Brock, as they stood in the kitchen. She shimmied playfully and he frowned.

“That is not dancing,” he said.

“What? Excuse me?” she said, laughing.

“C’mere,” he said. “Did nobody ever teach you to dance?”

“Nooooooo,” Darcy said. “I never learned. Also, I’m kind of a klutz.”

“I’m going to teach you merengue. It’s very simple. It’s a closed dance, that means the dancers stand close, not apart,” he said.

“With one arm?” she said.

“Just pretend I’ve got my injured arm around your waist, supporting your opposite arm,” he said. “Hold you other arm up like this,” he said, interlacing their fingers. “See?” He pulled her in closer and moved her arms. She had no clue what she was doing.

“Why can’t I put my arm around you?” she asked.

“Because as the man, I lead and you follow,” he said. “Those are the rules.”

“Is this a sexist thing?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said. “Now, assuming my arm isn’t in a sling, I’m holding you and we just do a simple left-right step. See? Left-right,” he said.

“Ahhh,” Darcy shrieked. Somehow, Darcy’s feet got tangled in his and they almost fell over. She caught herself on the edge of the countertop and he steadied her. She turned to look at him. Their faces were very close.

“Oh my God,” he said. “You’re literally worse than the guy in the sling? This is just sad, Lewis.”

“I told you I was a klutz,” Darcy said. Jane stuck her head around the corner.

“Are you guys okay?” she asked.

“Brock tried to teach me to dance,” Darcy said.

“Tried being the right word,” he said. “She’s the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.”

“She can’t dance,” Jane said. “We went to one ball on Asgard and she fell into a buffet table. Get Thor to do his impression of her sliding around on the floor, covered in cake.”

“Cake?” Brock said.

“She sort of sat in it when she landed on the table,” Jane said, laughing. “You shouldn’t let her anywhere near a dance floor.”

“Ughhhhhhh, I’m taking all your cheesecake,” Darcy scolded.

“Whose? Hers or mine?” Brock asked.

“Both,” Darcy said.

 

“This is a good movie,” Brock said, as they watched Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe sing.

“I’m still mad at you,” Darcy grumbled.

“Lewis, you’re good at lots of things, you don’t have to be a good dancer,” he said.

“He makes a good point,” Jane said.

“Traitor,” Darcy said. “You know, she didn’t like you until you brought cheesecake,” Darcy told Brock.

“Hey!” Jane said.

“I know,” he said, chuckling.

“You know?” Jane said.

“It was something about how you waved your fingernail near my eyeball at 5am,” he said dryly.

“Oh,” Jane said, “sorry.”

“All women love me eventually,” he said. “It’s my natural charm.”

“You’re so full of it,” Darcy told him.

“You don’t even want me to leave this apartment,” he said, pointing his fork at her.

“Phhffft,” Darcy said.

 

But she was a little sad when he announced he had to leave after the second movie. She’d talked him into _The Thin Man_ after Thor got back. “I gotta go,” he said. “Thor’s back, so you don’t need me around.” Thor and Jane had fallen asleep, curled up together in the armchair. Darcy smiled at them as Brock stood up.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said. “I don’t mind if you stay. We could watch _After the Thin Man_? Early Jimmy Stewart.”

“Nah,” he said, “I’ll get out of your hair.” She walked him to the door. “Full day in the lab on Monday, then we leave for Blacksburg around four, check in at the hotel between eight and nine?” he asked, leaning against her door frame.

“Yup,” she said.

“I guess you’ll be doing Jane’s packing tomorrow?” he said wryly.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “She tends to pack books and papers and forget, you know, underwear and her toothbrush.” He laughed.

“I’ll see you on Monday. Meet you here with the car, so we can load up all the luggage,” he said.

“Oh. Okay, thanks. I appreciate that,” she said. She wasn’t used to people doing stuff like that for her.

“Goodnight, Lewis,” he said.

“Goodnight,” she said. She watched him walk down the hallway and step into the elevator.

 

***

Week 3

Washington, DC

Darcy and Jane’s Condo

 

“Jane, time to go!” Darcy called, as she moved another wheeled suitcase to the apartment door.

“She is still asleep,” Thor said, bringing out her suitcase. Darcy had packed everything yesterday. She had a checklist that included backup contacts, allergy meds, and tampons. She’d double checked it on the phone.

“It’s totes your turn to wake her up, big bro,” Darcy said.

“Aye,” Thor said, looking a bit nervous. “Perhaps we take the bags downstairs and wait for Brock of the Rumlows first?” Darcy made chicken clucking noises at him and he ruffled her hair.

 

They dragged all their luggage to the parking garage. Brock was waiting with the car. “Let me get those. You’re early, I was coming up to meet you,” he said to Darcy, hopping out to put her bags in the trunk.

“Here,” Darcy said, trying to wheel the suitcases nearer to him. He reached for the handle and their hands touched briefly. “Sorry,” she said.

“I got it,” he said.

“Thank you, my friend!” Thor boomed. “I shall retrieve my Jane.”

“Is he always this cheerful in the morning?” Brock asked, as he shut the car trunk.

“Yup,” she said, checking her email.

“Interesting contrast with Jane,” Brock said casually.

“Opposites attract,” Darcy said, not really thinking about it, even as she said it.

“Do they?” he said archly. She looked up at him, surprised at his tone.

“So, I hear,” she said. He stepped closer to her.

“That’s too bad. I think we’re more alike than we are different, don’t you?” he said, grinning.

“Whatcha doing?” she said. He had her backed up against the car, Darcy realized.

“Thinking,” he said. She thought he was looking at her mouth. “It just occurred to me yesterday that if you want the rumor mill to stop calling you Klein’s stalker, then we should pretend to be seeing one another. Casually. So, I told Sharon to spread the rumor.”

“What?” Darcy said, stunned.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Jane called, hurrying off the elevator with Thor.

“Think about it,” Rumlow said. “We spent practically all weekend together. We don’t have to do anything, just let the gossip mill take care of it. We do nothing, that probably fuels the rumors more.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said, still processing.

“I’ll give you a little cover at work, socially-speaking. My reputation can take the hit,” Brock said.

“Your reputation can what now?” Darcy said. Had he just implied that dating her would be a downgrade? Like she was a social outcast? Or less desirable?

“What are you two doing?” Jane said.

“Talking. You told Sharon about Klein? She texted me yesterday,” he said to Jane. “That got me thinking about Darcy’s stalker problem.”

“He told Sharon spread a rumor that we’re seeing each other at work. Casually. His reputation can ‘take the hit’ of dating me,” Darcy said, doing air quotes.

“I didn’t say it like that,” he objected. “Jane, I did not.”

“You so did,” Darcy said. “Jane, he did.” Thor looked between the three of them curiously.

“I did not,” Brock said. “I did not use that tone.”

“Oh my God, yes, you did! Yes, you did!” Darcy said, bouncing up and down. “Are you hearing him right now?” she asked Jane.

“They are fighting?” Thor said, evidently confused.

“Are we really doing this in a parking garage?” Jane asked. “Get in the car, I have science to do.”

“I’m not getting in the car--” Darcy began.

“You get her left arm, I’ll get her right,” Brock said to Thor. He got Darcy’s right elbow with his good arm.

“This is kidnapping,” Darcy said, trying to pull away from Brock and merely succeeding in losing her balance. He had to hold her up. “What is wrong with you?” Darcy hissed.

“I’m very sturdy,” he said. He leaned in closer. “You’d know that if we were together.”

“Shall I help him, Jane?” Thor asked.

“Yes,” Brock said, “Darcy is crucial to the care and feeding of your Jane.”

“Shut up!” Darcy said to Brock. She slapped at his sling arm, he stepped back easily to avoid her, and Darcy almost lost her balance again. He chuckled.

“You might need to do some exercise, work on your balance, baby,” Brock said.

“Yes, help Brock,” Jane said to Thor, tapping her foot. “Hurry up, I need coffee.”

“All right,” Thor said cheerfully.

“I’m going to sue,” Darcy said to both men, “for all your Asgardian gold and all your--whatever you have of value,” she said, as they hustled her into the backseat of the car. Brock was driving, so Thor sat next to her and Jane sat up front.

“Hey,” Brock said, turning to look at her as he cranked the car, “I just realized, this is our first fight. Don’t forget to buckle your seatbelt,” he said. “You, too, Thor.”

“Yes,” Thor said happily, buckling himself in. “Jane as well.”

“Already did,” Jane said.

“Already did,” Darcy mocked, under her breath, as she clicked in her seatbelt. Jane could be such a teacher’s pet sometimes.

“Darce, you buckled in?” Brock asked her. She kicked the back of his seat. “Darcy,” he said.

“Yes, I’m buckled in,” she said.

 

She was so going to flash her boobs at Steve sometime if they went ahead with this dumb dating charade. That would show him. “Take the hit,” she muttered.

“What?” Jane said, as they drove through DC traffic.

“Nothing,” Darcy said glumly.

“Something bothering you, honey?” Brock asked, as they stopped at red light.

“I’m half your age!” Darcy said. He should be begging her to consider him, she thought. But he’d just assumed she’d be flattered.

“Not technically,” Jane said.

“Practically,” Darcy said.

“Do we need to talk about how you passed Math 101 again?” Jane asked.

“Look, that was just a joke--and don’t repeat it!” Darcy said.

“When she was drunk once, she told me that she wore low-cut shirts to math class, to make sure she passed,” Jane said. “And it wasn’t even the College Algebra one. It was the more basic one.”

“I told you that in confidence!” Darcy said. Brock was laughing.

“What is college algebra?” Thor asked.

“I dunno,” Darcy muttered. “A tool of Satan.”

“Didn’t you have a panic attack when you enrolled in quantitative methodology for your major? She’s very math-phobic,” Jane said to Brock.

“This is so not the point,” Darcy said. “I passed quantitative methodology just fine. It made sense to me.”

“What is the point, baby?” he asked.

“You just assumed I’d be a downgrade for you?” Darcy said, fuming.

“That is not what I said,” he told Jane.

“Well, what does ‘take the hit’ mean then?” Darcy asked.

“It was a poor choice of words,” he said.

 

Darcy was still irritated when they got out at Triskelion. She wasn’t used to the parking garage here, so she couldn’t even stomp off effectively. She gave Brock a dirty look. “Come on, Darcy,” Brock said. “It’s a good plan.”

“How do you know people will even believe it?” she asked, as they walked to the elevator.

“They’ll believe it,” he said.

“Why?” she said. What had he told Sharon to say?

“I’m a naturally sexy guy, I have chemistry with all women. Even Carter and Romanoff,” he said. “Hell, all people, really. There’s probably someone at SHIELD who thinks I’d make a good boyfriend for Cap,” Brock said. He grinned at her.

“That’s true,” Jane said. “I heard someone talking about that on the elevator last week. Hey, has my equipment delivery come in yet?” Jane had been ordering new equipment with her lab budget. Darcy checked her phone.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s at loading dock C?” After they got on, she hit the elevator button for lobby.

“I’ll get it,” Brock said.

“That’s my job and your arm is in a sling,” Darcy told him. “Go on up with Jane and guard her genius brains.”

“She’s got Thor with her,” Brock said.

“I do,” Jane said, beaming up at him. They made gooey eyes at each other.

“Fine,” Darcy said, “let’s go.” She stepped off the elevator and made a right.

“Loading Dock C is on your left, baby,” Brock said, chuckling.

 

In the end, she was glad he’d gone with her. Jane had gone a little nuts with the online equipment catalogs. They ended up having to borrow carts and a hand truck to wheel it all upstairs. When they got back to the elevator, Brock told her to go ahead first. “We both won’t fit,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll take the service elevator.” There were several people already inside.

 

Darcy wheeled her hand truck in--her stack of boxes was actually taller than her when she leveled the hand truck--and wedged herself in the corner of the elevator. Several floors up, several women stepped on, talking. “Any new gossip?” one of them said to the man nearest the elevator buttons. He shrugged.

“Same old, same old. Alpha, Charlie, and Echo are back from missions and Fury’s grumpy,” he said.

“Oh, Cap’s back!” one woman said.

“I heard that Rumlow was hooking up with Foster’s assistant,”  another one said. Behind her stack of cardboard boxes, Darcy cringed. People had already heard?

“The one that Cameron Klein blew off? Really?” the third woman asked. “That’s surprising. You’d think Rumlow would be pickier than Klein.”

“Rumlow’s not picky,” the second woman said, laughing.

“Which one is Foster’s assistant?” the first woman said.

“I’m not sure, I’ve only seen them from a distance. They’re both petite brunettes,” the second woman said. “The assistant supposedly has the big boobs.”

“That makes sense,” a third woman said. “Didn’t Rumlow date that woman in R&D who looked like Joan from _Mad Men_ for awhile?”

“Yes. I can’t imagine having boobs that big,” the first woman said. “I bet she has a lot of back pain.”

“Only you would think that, Lauren,” the second woman said.

“What? I like to run. It would suck. Do you think she had to wear two sports bras?” the Lauren woman mused. They got off when the doors opened. Darcy tried not to sigh audibly.

 

When she’d wheeled the boxes into the lab, she looked at Jane. “Where’s Thor?” she asked.

“Playing with the STRIKE guys in the gym,” Jane said.

“You need coffee?” Darcy asked.

“Thor got me some,” Jane said. Darcy smiled. Thor was sweet.

“Janey, I need a break from the fluorescents. I’m going to go run some errands, okay?” Darcy said.

“Sure,” Jane said. “Take as long as you need, just be back by 4, okay?”

“Yup. Rumlow’s bringing up the second set of equipment,” she said, then left and got back on the elevator.

 

“Where’s Darcy?” Brock said, once he’d dragged all the stuff into the lab.

“She took a break,” Jane said. “She’ll be back by four.”

“What’s she doing?” he said.

“Running errands,” Jane said.

“She left the building?” he said.

“I assume so. I didn’t ask,” Jane said and shrugged.

“What?” he said. “You just let her go?”

“Yes. Usually, I’m the person she needs the break from,” Jane said, staring at a readout. “She’ll be fine. She goes off when she needs time, but she always comes back.”

“This is how you run a lab? Your assistant disappears in the middle of a workday?” he said.

“Darce gets me up in the morning and buys my underwear and does my laundry, she works her hours and then some,” Jane said sharply. “Don’t be an idiot, Rumlow.”

“She’s mad at me, isn’t she? Shit,” he said.

“Maybe,” Jane said. “I didn’t ask. She tells me if I’ve really upset her.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Should I do something?” Jane shrugged; her method was to give Darcy space and alone time whenever Darcy asked for it. He went into the supply closet and dialed Darcy’s cell phone number. Her voicemail picked up.

“You’ve reached the cell phone of Darcy Lewis, please leav---,” Darcy’s voice said. There was a loud noise, a series of shrieks, and in the background, he heard Jane’s voice.

“Oh, no! Aliens!” she yelled. The voicemail beeped to indicate that he could leave a message.

“Lewis,” he said, momentarily thrown, “it’s me. Brock. Rumlow. I, uh, I was just worried about you. If I’ve upset you, I’m sorr--.” The voicemail cut him off. He called again.

“Stupid voicemail cut me off,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry. Please come bac--.” It cut him off again; he hit redial angrily.

“Goddammit, why is this thing so short?” he said, after the beep. “Shit, wait, I didn’t mean--”

 

***

 

Darcy was on a DC Metro bus, watching an old video of Ern Westmore--one of the famous Westmore makeup artists of classic Hollywood--from 1951 on her phone. Someone had uploaded part of it to YouTube. She found Ern’s smooth, confident tones soothing. He was explaining how to design your makeup to fit your face in that way that old-fashioned experts did, like there was a solution to everything, you only had to discover it and stick with what worked for you. “By applying these simple fundamentals, a woman gains complete command and control of herself and in doing so, she destroys self-consciousness. In the destruction of self-consciousness, she develops an entirely new personality,” Ern told her reassuringly. Darcy sighed. She could stand to destroy a little of her self-consciousness. Working at SHIELD was making her feel all kinds of weird. When she was Jane’s assistant on a college campus, people thought she was fun and interesting and asked her questions about where they’d been and what she’d done. At SHIELD--among the overachievers, badasses and hyper competitive agents with PhDs in forensics--she was considered a weirdo and a loser with her simple bachelor’s degree and distinctly low-powered job title, Darcy guessed. It was the tone they used when they called her “Foster’s assistant,” like she didn’t even have a name. Even the second Mrs. DeWinter in _Rebecca_ had a last one. Bah, she thought inwardly. This whole thing was stupid. And anyway, what did she want with impressing people who would be impressed by the idea that Brock Rumlow wanted to screw her? Wasn’t that the stupidest thing of all? She got off the bus at DuPont circle. She was going to get a hat at that cute hat store, Proper Topper, and maybe a book at the bookstore or something.

 

One raspberry cloche and a tube of Smith’s Rosebud Salve from another store later, Darcy sat on the bench in front of Brooks Brothers to listen to Billie Holiday sing “When Your Lover Has Gone” on her earbuds. She had a bag from Kramerbooks in her lap and had already taken out one of her books. A guy going into Brooks Brothers--very tall, dark, and handsome, with beard, she noted idly--smiled at her and spoke. “Hello,” he said. “Nice day to read.”

“Hello,” Darcy said back. “It is,” she admitted.

 

She was reading Judith Mackreil’s _Flappers: Six Women of a Dangerous Generation_ when he stuck his head out of Brooks Brothers again, some twenty minutes later. “Excuse me,” he said. “Would you mind giving me a woman’s  opinion?” Darcy looked up at him in surprise.

“Really?” she said.

“I can’t decide on a tie,” he admitted. This, Darcy knew, had to be a lie. Underneath the overcoat he’d been wearing, he had on a three piece suit. Men who went to the trouble of wearing vests and ties to work on a Monday had opinions on style. He was trying to pick her up? This piqued her curiosity. She went into Brooks Brothers. There was a very hopeful-looking salesman next to a table of sweaters. Over top of the sweaters, there were a dozen or so ties.

“That’s a lot of ties,” Darcy said, stowing her book back in her shopping bag.

“I can’t decide which one is right for a cocktail party I have tonight with the members of the Senate Foreign Relations committee?” he said.

“Whichever one enables you to run fastest in the other direction?” Darcy said. She’d picked up bits and pieces about DC cocktail party culture and it sounded so boring, even to a political science major. Tie Guy laughed.

“It’s work,” he said. “I have to suffer, but I can at least look good doing it.” He smiled.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, looking up at him. “That one,” she said, pointing to a dark blue tie. “Sedate, safe, totally establishment, Senators will trust you in that tie, whippersnapper.” The salesman looked a little surprised, but Tie Guy laughed and smiled.

“Perfect,” he said, handing the salesman a black credit card. He had real money, Darcy realized. Tony Stark had that card. “Box it all for me, please.”

“You should get this sweater,” she told him, running her finger over a cashmere stack of them.

“Blue? Green?” he said, indicating the brightly-hued ones.

“No,” she said, looking at his suit. “Too preppy and frivolous. You’re classic, serious. You earned your money, you didn’t inherit it,” she told him. “Charcoal or light grey. Beige or navy is as light as you want to get.”

“How did you know that?” he said, staring at her.

“You said please to the salesman like a nice person, not a born rich asshole,” Darcy said, grinning. “Good luck at your party.” She turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said. “Are you free now? Would you like to get coffee or lunch with me? Just as a thank you for your help?” He checked his watch. “It’s 11:26,” he said. “Bistrot du coin is almost open. Do you like mussels?”

“I do,” Darcy admitted.

“Just let me get this together,” he said, gesturing to the clothes that the salesman was wrapping. He looked at her. “I knew you could help me when you were wearing a hat and reading a book,” he said. “You have your own style, I could tell.”

“I was listening to Billie Holiday, too,” she told him. He smiled more widely.

“But I was rude,” he said. “I haven’t asked your name.”

“Darcy Lewis,” she said. “That’s me.” She did a double wave and he laughed.

“Billy,” he said. “Billy Russo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ern Westmore video that Darcy is watching on the bus is incredible: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3bB-13dtnQ
> 
> I sort of want Ern Westmore to pop by and tell me how to arrange my hair and squash all my self-consciousness forever now!
> 
> The stores are real DuPont circle places: https://washington.org/dc-focus-on/dupont-circle-shopping
> 
> The song Darcy not-dances to with Brock---"Brutal Heart"--is this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ct3F-yyjew.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dancing Flamingo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

When she and Billy left Brooks Brothers, there was a car and driver waiting. “You have a driver?” Darcy said, surprised.

“Just for this trip,” he said, carrying her bookstore bag as well as his own bags to the car trunk. “I live in New York. I drive myself there or take cabs,” he said.

“Oh,” Darcy said, a smidge disappointed. New York was four hours away. Billy wasn’t boyfriend material, then. He wasn’t really her type physically, either. But she could still have lunch with him. She really did like mussels. Moules-frites--mussels and fries, French style--was one of her favorite things. Billy opened the car door for her, very smoothly.

“It’s only about five minutes that way, but why should you walk in the chill when I have a driver?” he said, smiling charmingly.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She would not be telling Jane that she got in a car with a strange man. Jane would have a literal cow. She’d portal one into the lab or something.

 

Bistrot du Coin was surprisingly cute, not super fancy. “Oh em gee, I’ve never actually seen a place with this many mussels,” Darcy said.

“So, you do actually like them? You weren’t just being polite?” Billy said, smiling.

“I never joke about food. But I have no idea what to order,” she said.

“What are you thinking?” Billy asked.

“Moules marinières, obviously,” Darcy said.

“Very traditional,” Billy observed. “A classic.”

“On the other hand, do I try something crazy?” she said. “Moules bretonnes?”

“It sounds nice. Lobster bisque,” Billy said.

“Brittany is cool, too,” Darcy said.

“You’ve been?” he asked.

“Yes, my boss and I went for an academic conference--she’s a scientist, I’m her assistant-slash-life organizer--and I really liked that part of France. The waitresses in fancy restaurants wear these tall lace hats, it’s a trip. Ours let me put it on and I have the best selfie,” Darcy told him. He smiled.

“What kind of science?” Billy asked.

“She’s Dr. Jane Foster, the astrophysicist,” Darcy explained. “We work at SHIELD now, but she’s been a visiting professor, well, everywhere.” Billy looked shocked.

“Are you okay?” Darcy said.

“I, uh, didn’t realize you were famous,” he said, looking at her.

“I’m not,” Darcy said, “Jane is.”

Billy looked at her. “Really?” he said. “That’s what you think?”

“Of course. Oooh,” Darcy said, going back to the menu.

“What?” Billy asked.

“Moules Roquefort,” she said.

“Blue cheese?” Billy frowned.

“I love blue cheese,” Darcy told him. “Well, all cheese. I almost got in trouble sneaking some out of France.” He laughed. “What do you do?” she asked him.

“I run a military contractor called Anvil,” he said. He reached into his wallet and retrieved a card. She expected him to hand it to her, but he wrote a number on the back first. “This is my private line,” he said.

“Ooooh, that was smooth,” Darcy said. She did a little applause and he grinned.

“Thank you,” he said.

“So, this is why you’re here--to schmooze and network,” she said.

“Yes. Most of my job is  about landing contracts here. I think I’m actually developing a twitch about the word network,” he said. She laughed.

“Whoops, sorry. It’s right up there with synergize, results-oriented, and utilize,” Darcy said. He flashed her another of those charming grins. His smile was very nice and his teeth were perfect, Darcy thought. Almost too perfect.

“Do you study astrophysics, too?” he asked.

Darcy laughed. “God, no. I majored in political science, actually. I’m not a science person, I’m humanities and politics and history person.” Billy brightened.

“That’s wonderful. You sure you don’t want to go with me to cocktail party for Senator Matthews instead?” he asked.

“I can’t,” Darcy said.”I’m the person responsible for making sure Jane eats and sleeps.”

“Tough job?” he asked.

“I had an Irish boyfriend while she was a visiting professor in Pennsylvania,” Darcy said.

“Had?” Billy said.

“Yes, Declan invited me to visit his family in Kilkenny. I came back a week and a half later and she’d almost burned the lab down,” she said. “Also, she was wearing the same outfit she’d dropped me off at the airport in.” Billy laughed. Her phone buzzed. “Just a sec, let me step out to answer this,” Darcy said. “It’s Jane. I have to make sure there haven’t been any lab accidents.”

“Okay,” Billy said, smiling. “Take your time.”

 

She checked her phone. She had a bunch of freaked-out sounding messages from Rumlow and one text from a calmer-sounding Jane.

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Tell Brock I’m fine. I went to lunch. I helped someone visiting town for a political thing choose a tie, now he’s buying me to lunch as a thank-you.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **I’ll calm Brock down. Who are you at lunch with?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** His name is Billy Russo, he works for a company called Anvil.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** We’re at Bistrot du Coin, their menu is amazing, you and I and Thor are totally coming here a bunch of times.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **He’s not sketchy is he? Do I need to do the stranger danger talk with you?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Nope. Not unless you could inviting me to a cocktail party for Sen. Matthews as sketchy? Also, serial killers don’t usually have a town car and a driver.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **Oh. Please be careful anyway.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science! & Asgard: **Remember Ted Bundy was a charming law student!

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’ll never let you watch Ann Rule documentaries again. TTYL. I’ll be back by 4.

 

***

“So,” Billy said, when she returned, “are you doing classic or daring with your mussels?”

“Hmmmm,” Darcy said. “This is crazy difficult. I think I’ll do classic, though,” she said. Billy was studying the menu. “You can’t go wrong with a classic. What about you?” she asked. A waiter came to take their order when Billy looked up.

“I wonder which sauce is better with the tournedos of beef, the poivre or the béarnaise?” he said.

“Both are popular,” the waiter said.

“What should I do?” Billy asked her.  

“Flip a coin?” Darcy said. “Let fate decide.”

“Great idea,” he said. The flipped one. It was tails. The sauce au poivre.

“Do you want wine?” Billy asked.

“I can’t. I have to go back to work by four and we’re driving to a conference tonight,” she said.

“Too bad,” he said. He ordered water and she got Diet Coke.

 

They had a great lunch. Billy tried to talk her into dessert, but she was wildly full from dipping the majority of a baguette into her mussels broth. “I can’t, I can’t, I’m too full,” she told him.

“But you like dessert, right?” he said.

“What gave me away?” she asked.

“I saw your eyes light up when that waiter brought the next table their crème brulée,” Billy said teasingly.

“Yes, I’m a dessert person,” she admitted. “I like to bake, actually. Sometimes, I think it would be amazing to have a bakery, but that seems like it might suck the fun right out of cupcakes and chocolate chip cookies.”

“Yes,” Billy said. “It would.”

“You know?” she asked, smiling.

“I used to like talking to people,” he said, grinning. “Now it’s networking.”

 

***

 

“She’s with who?” Brock asked, when Jane got Darcy’s text message. He’d been sitting in the lab, tapping his foot for the last half-hour.

“An out of towner here on political stuff,” Jane said. “She helped him pick out a tie.”

“She what?” Brock said.

“That’s a very Darcy thing,” Jane said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“People in stores always ask her opinion. One time, a lady in a Panera asked her about salads and said she looked like a ‘salad person,’ we’re still not sure what that was about,” Jane said, laughing.

“What’s this guy’s name?” Brock asked.

“Billy Russo,” Jane said. “He works for Anvil.”

“What?” Brock said. “Billy Russo?”

“What’s wrong?” Jane said.

“He doesn’t work for Anvil, he owns Anvil, they’re a private mercenary firm,” Brock said grimly.

“Why, is that bad? Is he dangerous?” Jane asked.

“No,” Brock said flatly. “I’m getting coffee. Do you want some?” Brock asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jane said.

 

***

 

“Hey, boss,” Hernandez said, when he entered the breakroom.

“G’day,” Jack said. “Where’s Darcy?”

“Running errands,” Brock said.

“So, you’re seeing each other?” Hernandez said politely.

“She’s a bonzer girl,” Jack said.

“Yes,” Brock said, quietly. He scooped coffee into the filter. “Any mission news?”

“We’ve got a call out in twenty,” Hernandez said.

“Do you think Thor will want to go?” Jack asked.

“Possibly. He’s downstairs with the rest of the team,” Brock said. Thor was sparring. Brock couldn’t exercise. It was fucking up his moods. He needed to burn off some energy.

“Let’s go ask him,” Jack said cheerfully. “Bye, Brock!”

“See ya, boss,” Hernandez said.

"See you," Brock said.  “Fuck,” he muttered, as he turned back and realized the coffee pot was out of alignment. Coffee was pouring down the side of the glass cylinder and pooling under the machine. He struggled to mop up the spill with his good hand. He couldn’t understand his antsiness. It wasn’t like she was really his girlfriend, Brock thought, as the coffee brewed and hissed. They weren’t together. She could have lunch with Billy Russo. Darcy could be dating Billy Russo, it would make no difference to his life. He’d seen Billy Russo giving an interview on _60 Minutes_ once _._ Billy Russo was polished. Younger than him. Extremely rich. Billy Russo was the kind of guy who the SHIELD executives on the 38th floor were eager to befriend. Russo had been a little too smooth when they asked him about a shooting involving Anvil contractors and civilians in Iraq. Too polished. He'd obviously gone over it with lawyers before he said he had "the deepest sympathy for the families of those we lost in that tragic accident." But his eyes hadn't looked sad. Brock had thought his dark eyes gleamed like a damn cat's as he leaned in to talk to Lesley Stahl or Charlie Rose or whoever it had been. Like he was winning a game. Fuck Billy Russo, Brock thought, trying to shake off his irritation. It only made his feeling of alarm worse. Was Darcy fucking Billy Russo right now? The intensity of his jealousy surprised him. When he thought about them having lunch together, it was impossible not to also imagine Billy fucking Darcy. Probably on tables. What the hell was wrong with him? It was his arm, he thought. He hadn’t had sex since before he injured his shoulder. He couldn’t lift anybody. Even missionary might be a little challenging. He hadn’t bothered calling up any of his usual hookups. He’d been weirdly preoccupied with watching old movies with Darcy. And Darcy was sexy, in a certain way. He’d had lots of thoughts about her mouth when they’d spent so much time eating. And her massages didn’t feel platonic, either. Her body was incredible. She had beautiful eyes, too. That was probably just her eye makeup, though. Obviously, he was just suffering from frustration--no sex, no real work to do. He was bored and irritable. He’d be fine once he got this sling off and could run Alpha again. That was all. Right? He watched the coffee brew. But Darcy was a small woman. Soft. She didn't have self-defense training, just that taser. She'd left it at home, he knew, since SHIELD hadn't licensed her to carry. In his head, Brock heard Billy Russo say the words "deepest sympathy" and "tragic accident" again and had to repress a wave of distaste. The man's eyes had been so dark they looked almost black against his pupils, like a cursed kid in a horror movie.

 

As they went down to the gym, Hernandez looked at Jack. “That seem weird to you?” he asked. Jack shrugged.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Jack said.

“He don’t seem happy like somebody who has a hot younger girlfriend and plenty of time for fun on light duty,” Hernandez said. “Weird.”

 

“Jane,” Brock said, walking back into the lab with coffees, “you have a choice.”

“What?” Jane said, looking up in surprise.

“Stay here or come with me,” he said.

“Where are you going? It’s only one,” Jane said.

“I’m going to pick up Darcy,” he said.

“She won’t like that,” Jane told him.

“Tough,” he said.

  
  
***

“What are you doing here?” Darcy said. Brock had walked into the restaurant as they were waiting on the check.

“I’m here to pick you up. Dr. Foster needs you,” Brock said abruptly.

“Who are you?” Billy said. Those eyes were the same, Brock thought. Dark, assessing, slightly unreal-looking.

“I’m her SHIELD security,” Brock said. Billy eyed his arm sling dubiously.

“Security?” he said.

“He’s one of the STRIKE guys normally, they just have him guarding us for light duty, we’re his desk job,” Darcy explained to Billy.

“Oh,” Billy said. "It's nice to me you, Mr.?"

"Rumlow," Brock said.

“Jane needs me?” Darcy said to Brock.

“Yes,” Brock told her.

“I’ll take care of the bill, you take care of the Jane,” Billy said smoothly. “You have my number. I had a great time, Darcy.”

“I did, too,” Darcy said. She smiled at Billy. Brock tapped his foot impatiently.

“George will get your bags out of the trunk,” Billy said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, standing up. Billy rose and hugged her. Brock had already moved towards the door, but looked back with an ambiguous expression that could have been unhappiness or boredom.

“You will call me, won’t you?” Billy said.

“Like you’ll remember me,” Darcy said.

“Lewis,” Brock called. Darcy rolled her eyes and Billy laughed.

“Your work is never done, huh?” Billy said.

“I’m like a tiny mom to another tiny adult,” Darcy said, letting him go.

 

“Where’s Jane?” Darcy asked, as they reached the sidewalk. Billy’s driver was waiting, holding her bag of books. “Thank you, George,” Darcy said.

“You’re welcome, Darcy,” he said. “Have a nice afternoon!”

“You, too,” Darcy said. She turned back towards the sidewalk. Brock was standing there with an unreadable expression. He’d popped his sunglasses on.

“Jane’s waiting for you. Get in the car,” Brock told her as they walked towards his SHIELD vehicle. The SUV was parked two or three blocks down. He kept looking back towards the restaurant.

“She’s not the real reason you’re here, is she?” Darcy asked. He didn’t answer. “Jane’s not even here! You can’t just order me around,” she said, stopping and crossing her arms.

“I’m responsible for your safety,” he said. “Come get in the car, Lewis.”

“Tell me the truth,” she said.

“I can’t do this now, we’re standing in the street,” he said. A pedestrian stared at them.

“Okay, fine,” Darcy said, walking to the car.

“Good,” he said flatly, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Just be honest with me,” she said, getting into the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel and sighed. He looked frustrated and aggrieved.

“It’s just—I was trying to figure out what kind of dog you were, but then I realized, you aren’t a dog, you’re a dancing flamingo,” he said.

“A what?” Darcy said.

“You’re like that dancing flamingo. It was down in Florida. My mother saw it once, sent me a video. There was a flamingo that danced at a place down there. Everybody loved that damn flamingo,” Brock said.

“Are you actually insulting me again?” she said. “Making a joke?”

“No, no, you don’t understand. Everybody loved that thing. Okay, some people might think it was a joke. But the kids loved it. The zoo people loved that flamingo. It performed every time it saw people. And then some fucking drunk guy attacked it for no reason and it had to be put to sleep. It was totally innocent. The flamingo had no fear of people. It thought people were safe, it trusted them. It just wanted to make people happy,” he said, agitated.

“Are you having a freak out right now?” Darcy said. His flamingo story wasn’t making any sense.

“Yes, a mondo freak out,” Jane said from the back seat.

“Jane!” Darcy shrieked. “I didn’t know you were back there.”

“He dragged me here in case you were running off with Billy Russo. He spent the whole drive ranting about how he says all the right things on _60 Minutes_ , but he’s dead behind the eyes,” Jane said. “Is that him?” She leaned between the front seats and peered up ahead. Billy was getting into the town car. “He’s really good-looking. Wow. He’s rich, young, and that handsome? Darce, chase him.”

“She’s not chasing him, he's not a nice man,” Brock said, locking the car doors.

“Did you just lock us in? Are those the child locks?” Darcy said.

“No, I just forgot to lock them,” he said.

“Wait, is Billy Russo the drunk redneck in the flamingo story?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said. “They’re everywhere. There are lots of drunk rednecks,” he said grimly.

“I think you two just need to have sex or whatever,” Jane said.

“That is not what this is,” Brock said. “It’s not about sex.”

“Jane!” Darcy said.

“I feel protective of you,” Brock said to Darcy. “It’s not sexual, okay?”

“Yeah, right,” Jane said, going back to her notebook.

“Oh great, remind me that I’m the downgrade you’re taking the hit for,” she said. “Just a klutzy, ditzy girl that you offered pity sex to and all,” Darcy said.

“It wasn’t pity, okay? You were sad and I thought--” Brock began.

“He totally wants to have sex with you,” Jane said. “Billy has him all upset.”

“Jane, goddammit—” Brock said

“You can have sex in the supply closet before we leave, it’s pretty soundproof, but you might want to wait until we get to the conference with his injury. The shelves are tricky,” Jane said calmly.

“Billy isn’t even my type. He’s too fancy. I’d have to go to cocktail parties with Newt Gingrich and be nice to his terrifying wife,” Darcy said.

“Isn’t that the one you always joke looks like the White Witch of Narnia?” Jane asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Freeze,” Darcy said.

“Really? You’re not interested in Billy?” Brock said, sounding relieved.

“See? Told you,” Jane said. “He’s got a sexual thing.”

“I’m not interested,” Darcy said.

“Sex is not the point,” he said, sounding offended.

“Are you insulting me again? Because first, you 'take a hit,' then I'm a dumb flamingo, now it sounds like you're saying I'm unfuckable,” Darcy said.

“No, you’re an attractive woman,” he said.

“Oh, that’s really flattering, everyone wants to be called _attractive_ ,” Darcy said sarcastically.

“What’s wrong with attractive?” he said.

“It’s so begrudging and--and--just the saddest, most depressing of the compliments. Pretty, lovely, sweet, beautiful, those have feeling. Attractive just means you know how to dress yourself better than a five year old,” Darcy said.

“What?” Brock said.

“She’s right, you know,” Jane said.

“Okay, you’re beautiful,” he said.

“It doesn’t count when I’ve already told you about attractive,” Darcy said. They lapsed into silence.

“Are we leaving or are we just going to sit here?” Jane asked finally.

“When did you and Thor..?” Brock said, starting the car.

“Oh, while you were getting my equipment,” Jane said.

“Maybe we should leave early for the conference? We could go now?” Brock said, as he eased into DC traffic.

“Nope, I need my lab stuff,” Jane said.

“She’ll pitch a fit if you don’t go back,” Darcy said.

“Fine,” Brock said, turning the car towards the office.

“Like you didn’t just suggest that so Darce would be farther away from Billy,” Jane said, snorting. Brock tapped the steering wheel.

 

“Find us some music? Please?” he asked Darcy as he fiddled with radio dial at a stop light a few minutes later.

“I wanted to be a pug, I like dogs,” Darcy said, tuning through several stations. In the backseat, Jane was writing.

“You’re not a pug,” he said.

“Pugs are adorable,” she said. “They make the cutest little snorting noises and wheezes.” She mimicked one.

“Why do you love nerdy men and dogs with asthma? I don’t get it,” he said.

“Why are you rude? It's like you're constantly bouncing between Fun Brock and Brock Who Hates Me,” Darcy said.

“I don't--I can't,” he began.

“Thor says that all the STRIKE guys say he’s funny normally. Even Steve says so and you know how quippy and funny Steve is,” Jane said. “I think you throw him off his game, Darce.”

“You can stop talking at any time, Jane,” Brock said grimly. "Besides, how can I be saying you're unfuckable and not, uh, pretty"--he stressed the word--"when I offered to go to bed with you before all that?"

"That's where the pity comes in, it was just a pity offer," Darcy said. "Because I'm a sad flamingo or whatever?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock's dancing flamingo story is real and very sad. Poor Pinky was so cute! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOG_xh60b60


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendzoned, but at least we still have Sarah Vowell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

“Okay, is everything ready?” Brock asked. They were back in the lab, getting ready to leave after they got Jane’s things. He’d been helping Darcy turn off equipment and lock things up while Jane did some final machine checks. Thor had left Jane a note saying he was going on the mission and would meet them in Blacksburg when he got back. It was going to be a long road trip, Darcy thought. “You got everything you need?” Brock said quietly, touching her shoulder with his good arm.

“Yeah, I’ve got my books,” Darcy said. She had her bag on the desk, next to her messenger.

“I’m sorry I upset you, I really don’t mean to,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. “I’m beginning to get that you have foot-in-mouth syndrome, you jerk,” she teased. He laughed. Then he started rubbing her back in slow circles. Jane was printing out something. 

“What books did you buy?” he asked.

“A book about flappers by Judith Mackrell, David Grann’s book on the 1920s murders of Osage Indians for oil access in Oklahoma, and--oh,” she said. He’d pressed his hand into her lower back and kneaded.

“Too much? Want me to stop?” he said.

“No,” she said. He kept pressing.

“When this rotator cuff tear has healed, I’ll be much better at this, I need my other hand,” he said. “Here, lean against me, baby.”

“Did you just baby me?” Darcy said archly. Since when did he call her baby? He’d been doing that this morning, too. Called her honey. She’d been so mad about ‘take the hit’ that she hadn’t noticed.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said. 

“I’m not having pity sex with you in the supply closet,” Darcy said firmly.

“I don’t want to have sex with you in there, I’m just trying to be a friend,” he said quietly.  “This is platonic massage, I learned it from you. I want us to have fun again.” He’d realized as they were driving back to SHIELD that he didn’t want her running off with Billy Russo because he’d miss her. Who would go see movies with him at the Avalon? He couldn’t go back to seeing movies alone. And he’d have no one to buy popcorn or cheesecake for. He didn’t eat those things himself. “We have fun, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said, “when you’re not being clueless.”

“Uh-huh. We’re friends,” he said. He pressed his hand into her lower back again. Darcy sighed.

“Yeah,” she said. After a few minutes, he let her go. 

“Anything else I need to take downstairs?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said.

“If we’re supposed to be together it makes sense for me to call you something at work,” he said, returning to the baby thing.

“We’re still doing that?” she said.

“Uh-huh, I owe you,” he told her. 

“Ian used to call me crazy sometimes?” Darcy joked, slipping her messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Not funny, Darcy,” he said.

“Do you not like my boyfriend stories?” Darcy said, grinning.

“No,” he said. “I think I need to help you find a decent guy. You smell nice, by the way.” He could compliment her, right? Maybe that would help.

“That’s my perfume you made fun of. I wore it today because I felt tired,” she said. 

“I was wrong about your naughty perfume, I like it,” he said, grinning.

“You’re wrong about a lot of things,” she told him, rolling her eyes. He was such a perv.  “I should start making a list of all the ways you’re wrong, starting with pugs, redheaded men, and me being a flamingo,” she said.

“You can start the list for me. You smell like a cupcake,” he said teasingly. “A pink cupcake. It’s right for a little flamingo.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said. “Should we go refill our coffee?”

“You love flamingos,” he said. “I still think it fits.”

“But you think I’m a tragedy flamingo,” Darcy said, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Oh my God, just have sex already!” Jane said from across the room.

“I would like to point out that you moped over for Thor for  _ years  _ after one kiss and I listened to you whine the whole time!” Darcy yelled back.

“What about sweetheart as a nickname?” he said, ignoring Jane’s outburst.

“No,” she said. “Too cheesy.”

“Doll?” he said.

“Are you Steve? Then no,” she said.

“Pumpkin?” he said.

“Annnnnnnntttttt,” she said, making a game show losing noise.

“Sugar?” he said.

“You stole that from  _ Some Like It Hot _ ,” she said.

“Nobody’s perfect,” he quipped.

“Thief,” she said. “Besides, I think all that stuff is corny.”

“You don’t want a nickname?” he said, feeling a weird disappointment. Why didn’t she want a nickname?

“Nope. Just call me Darcy,” she said.

 

***

The road trip was fairly uneventful, except when Jane had to pee and refused to pee at a Chik-Fil-A. “The company owner is a fascist,” Jane said stubbornly. 

“She’s much more political than me in some ways, her parents were professors,” Darcy explained. “She was going to marches in utero.”

“It wasn’t a march, it was a pro-breastfeeding event and a rally to allow people in Virginia to hyphenate their babies’ names. Back then, you couldn’t,” Jane said.

“Your name isn’t hyphenated?” Brock said.

“The ballot initiative failed,” Jane said. “Stop at that Walgreens instead.”

“Isn’t that Big Pharma?” Darcy said.

“Shhh,” Brock said. “Don’t give her ideas.”

“She makes me feel like I’m buying drugs if I have a craving for waffle fries,” Darcy told Brock. He grinned.

“That’s not me, that’s your guilty conscience,” Jane said.

“I do think the my pleasure thing they make the staff say at Chik-Fil-A is weird, though,” Darcy admitted.

“It’s because they’re fascists,” Jane said insistently. She wiggled in the back seat. Darcy knew that meant she really had to pee.

“No shit,” Brock said. “Some fifteen year old kid says that to me, I expect Chris Hansen to show up with a camera crew.” Darcy burst out laughing.

“Oh em gee, did you ever see the gif that’s just Chris Hansen peering around a corner? It’s the best,” Darcy told him.

 

While Jane bolted for the bathroom, they walked around the store. “You want caramel corn?” Brock asked, holding up a box of Crackerjack. He knew she loved Crackerjack. And popcorn. And 5th Avenue candy bars. 

“I’m full,” she said. He put it in his basket anyway. She’d be hungry later. He added a few 5th Avenue bars and then found Darcy over by the lipstick. She was eyeing a display of lipsticks. 

“That one,” Brock said teasingly.

“I am not buying a lip gloss called Pink Flamingo, you asshat,” she said.

“I’ll buy it,” he said. “You look good in makeup.”

“I look good in makeup?” Darcy said, astounded. He put the lipstick in his basket. Did he not realize he had just low-key insulted her unmade-up face?

“Yeah,” he said, “you do all that eyeshadow stuff, too. What is this stuff?” It was all shiny.

“It’s a highlighter,” Darcy told him.

“What does it do?” he asked.

“It makes you all glowy and pretty,” she said.

“Uh-huh. I know some people who’d give you a glow for free,” he cracked.

“Oh my God,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Billy would,” he pointed out. “He’s probably thinking about what you’d look like all glowy right now, as he talks to some ninety-three year old senator from Idaho.”

“Stahhhhp. I thought you hated Billy?” Darcy said.

“Doesn’t make it less true,” he said. He put the highlighter in the basket, too. 

“Why are you buying me makeup?” she said.

“You like makeup?” he said. “If you liked beer, I’d buy you a six-pack if you were having a shitty day and I’d screwed up. Do you still like Klein?” Darcy was momentarily surprised; he had moved abruptly from lipstick to Cameron?

“Not when he treats me like a pariah,” Darcy said.

“Sharon claims he didn’t realize you’d seen him that day. He hates conflict and didn’t want to turn you down, I think.  And he never said the stalker thing, either. That’s all Jim being a wiseass because Klein is conflict-adverse. But I honestly don’t think anybody realized that would get back to you. They were just talking out of their asses. You know how people are, sometimes they forget,” he said.

“Forget what?” she said.

“That there’s somebody real out there that might get hurt when they talk shit,” he said. “So?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Darcy told him. “Spell it out for me?”

“If you still want to date Cameron, we can work on it. You know, there’s nothing like a girl having a serious boyfriend that makes other men interested. It’s a challenge,” he said. 

“Why should I give him the time of day, though?” she pointed out.

“That’s my girl,” he said cheerfully. “Personally, I think we should get him to fall for you, just so you can turn him down in a humiliating way, but I have an Italian temper.”

“Are suggesting a vendetta?” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “What about some red?” He turned back to the lipstick.

  
  


***

Jane was reconnecting with some of her local professor buddies when they got to the hotel. It was quiet; most conference goers were arriving the next morning early, but they’d used their budget for an extra night instead. The three of them checked in, deposited their stuff, and went downstairs to meet Jane’s friends in the hotel’s lounge. Darcy liked the various doctors, but it was all  _ wah wah  _ telescope  _ wah wah  _ tenure to Darcy after a certain point in the evening. She excused herself and went over to sit with Brock at an adjoining table. He was reading one of her books; she’d loaned it to him as a thank you for the makeup. “A Diet Coke, please,” she told the waiter. She’d had enough wine with with the professors that she felt slightly buzzed. Just enough to be pleasant.

“I like this book,” he said, setting it down. 

“Sarah Vowell is funny,” she said. She’d given him  _ The Wordy Shipmates  _ and  _ Assassination Vacation.  _ “Maybe a little goth, but funny,” Darcy said. He’d picked the Puritan one first, to her surprise.

“Goth?” he said.

“You know, a little bit Wednesday Addams?” she said. “I went through that phase, so hard relate.”

“Huh,” he said. “I don’t see it.”

“Well, not now, but--hold on, I saved this photo on my phone. This is my misspent youth,” she told him. She found a photo of herself from high school she’d taken a photo of for Jane. They used their worst teenage photos as ironic social media avatars on twitter. “I wore a lot of black and pierced my eyebrow and had a really awkward short haircut that turned into a clown ‘fro when it was humid. See?”

“You were a cute kid,” he said. 

“Are you high?” she teased.

“What?” he said. “You look happy.” Darcy looked at the photo. Her teenage self had a big grin. When she was fourteen or fifteen, she had been a little weirdo. She’d been in the theater club and liked purple lipstick and tarot decks and the cheesy but fun tv show  _ Highlander _ . She tried to slick back her hair like Amanda from  _ Highlander  _  in the photo. It had made her stand out in her little Virginia town, but at the time, she’d been certain she was more daring and adventurous than the preppy kids who all dressed alike in khakis and had monogrammed LL Bean backpacks. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I was happy.” When she looked back up, he was looking at her. He smiled happily. He took her phone and started flicking idly through her photos.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s something I do sometimes to help a friend. She makes retro clothes and sells them online. She’s kind of in competition with Modcloth and Pin-up Girl for customers who like that whole vintage look and a lot of them are shorter and curvier than you average model, so she took pictures of me in them for her website,” Darcy explained. “That one’s my favorite.”

“Lewis, when you’re chasing these nerd boys, has it never occurred to you to say, ‘I work for a famous scientist now,  _ but I also model? _ ” he asked.

“That’s not real modeling, though. I just wore a pencil skirt and a red blouse on my friend’s webs--what are you doing?” she said.

“Sending this to myself,” he said.

“Why?” she said.

“Because, if we’re supposed to be dating, I should put a photo of you in my SHIELD gear locker,” he said.

“Not that one!” she said. “Why not one where I--”

“Look less hot?” he said archly. “Cap’s next to me. He won’t say anything rude. He keeps a photo of Peggy in his locker, actually.”

“Awww,” Darcy said.

“It’s sweet when he does it, huh?” he said. “You and Peggy are wearing practically the same damn outfit.”

“I didn’t think Peggy Carter dressed like that,” Darcy said. Most of her knowledge of Peggy came via childhood media stuff about Peggy at SHIELD before her retirement. She’d wore a lot of suits and given off a stylish, yet aloof vibe that reminded Darcy of, like, Jackie O or somebody.

“I’m sure you and Picture Peggy will get along great,” Brock said, returning her phone. “You can talk about red lipstick and how you tased Thor and she shot Steve,” he said dryly.

“She shot Steve?” Darcy said, surprised. Her phone buzzed. A text message.

“According to Sharon. Is that Billy Russo?” Brock said.

“No, Billy doesn’t have my number,” Darcy said, grinning. This was a guy she’d dated briefly in London, after Richard and Shiva.

“Good,” Brock said. “Why are you smiling?”

“London guy has just asked me to pop by for tea. He’s obviously drunk. They’re five hours ahead,” Darcy said.

“It’s 3am there and he’s asking if you want tea?” Brock said.

“Nope, dudes are dudes all over the worl--” Darcy began.

“We’re moving the shenanigans upstairs,” Jane told them, coming over to the table. The professors were with her.

“I have more chardonnay in my bag,” Dr. Alves said, grinning. She shifted it playfully and Darcy could hear the bottle roll around.

“I guess we’re headed upstairs,” Brock said to Darcy. “You want me to carry your Diet Coke, klutzy?” he teased.

 

Brock’s room was opposite Jane and Darcy’s, so they ended up sprawled on his bed--Darcy on her stomach, him on his back to support his shoulder--eating Crackerjack while the various doctors talked and drank across the hall. Dr. Alves had generously insisted Darcy take some of her chardonnay and now Darcy was drinking it out of a plastic hotel cup. Brock left the door open. “It’s easier than standing out there,” he admitted.

“How likely is an attempt on our livessssssss?” Darcy drawled, jokingly.

“Not likely,” he said. “We think we got all the HYDRA cells before their planned coup.” Darcy had heard a little about an aborted HYDRA infiltration of SHIELD, but it had been back when she and Jane were freshly post-elf, so she had missed a lot. Sharon had mentioned that Brock’s STRIKE team had done a triple-double-agent-whatever thing.

“Oh. Is that something you don’t want me to talk about?” she asked. 

“You can ask about it,” he said quietly.

“Okay, what’s the story on Bucky Barnes?” Darcy asked. He looked surprised.

“First he was Cap’s childhood pal, then he fell off a train in the 1940s and HYDRA used serums on him and used him as an assassin occasionally? But mostly, they kept him in cryo for decades. That’s where Rollins and I found him while we were pretending to be HYDRA,” he said.

“He’s missing now?” Darcy said. There were rumors Tony still wanted to kill him a little for being the man who’d assassinated Howard and Maria Stark, but Darcy had heard from Pepper that Tony was 85% okay now. He just wasn’t ready to play table tennis with a one-armed man yet.

“Technically,” Brock said, grinning. He rolled over on his side to face her, supporting his head with his good arm.

“What?” Darcy said. “You know, don’t you?”

“It’s classified,” he said. “But he’s okay, wherever he is. You know, most women just ask me if I’ve shot anybody.”

“I know you’ve shot people,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes. He grinned. 

“What else do you want to know?” he said in a whisper.

“Did you really date a woman in R&D who looks like Joan from  _ Mad Men _ ?” she asked. 

“Oh. Yeah. Katrina. How’d you know?” he asked.

“Women in the elevator talking about your fondness for big boobs,” she said dryly. He grinned again and looked faintly trollish, she thought.

“I’ve never really understood those guys who say more than a fistful’s a waste, I think they’re doing it wrong,” he said wryly. He stared at her boobs for a long moment.

She felt herself blush a little under the warmth of his gaze. He chuckled.

“Why are you embarrassed by your gorgeous tits, Lewis?” he said in a low voice. “People pay good money to look like you. Other people spend good money to woo people who look like you, just to touch ‘em.”

“Who says I’m embarrassed? But I thought you didn’t think redheads were sexy?” she said.

“I don’t think she was a natural redhead. You know how I knew?” he said, grinning wickedly.

“Do not use the words rug, drapes, or curtains or I swear to God…” Darcy said, holding her hand up threateningly.

“Don’t hit me, I’m injured. But yeah, I dated Katrina. She was great--is great. Funny, smart, the works. She has a fucking graduate degree in chemistry, but nobody ever mentions that. We were together for about six, seven months?” he said.

“Serious?” Darcy said, digging around in the Crackerjack box and not making eye contact. He sighed.

“Yeah, for me it was, but she wanted kids and I couldn’t see how that would work,” he said. “I mean, what kind of father would I be, running STRIKE Alpha and disappearing all the time? And I see how hard it is on families, I’m not a moron. It’s one of the reasons I keep my shit casual at present. Anyway, we called it a day and she’s married to a nice guy named Greg now. They have a kid. I’m happy for her.” 

“That’s nice,” Darcy said. He’d said it totally without animosity.

“Do I get to ask you questions?” he said in a low voice.

“Sure,” she said.

“Why aren’t you with someone who appreciates what you’ve got? All your dating stories are about you chasing guys like Klein?” he said. “Do you not like it when men chase you?” He ‘d frowned.

“I think Anna Nicole got the last Texas oil millionaire who was into the big boobs thing and the rest of them are dead now,” Darcy joked.

“You realize a millionaire took you to lunch this afternoon, right?” he pointed out. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I kinda forgot.”

He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?” he said, chuckling.

“Well, not for the right reasons,” Darcy said, more to herself.

“What?” he said.

“Nobody chases me for the right reasons,” she told him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can imagine.” He looked at her face and then her body.

“No,” Darcy said, “you really can’t.” She shook her head a little and sipped the chardonnay..

“Huh?” Brock said. Darcy looked over her shoulder at Jane’s room and then lowered her voice.

“I shouldn’t tell you. Men get weird,” Darcy said. 

“Oh,” he said. He flexed his jaw. Had someone hurt her? “If it’s painful or upsetting to talk about, you don’t have to tell me—” he began. 

“No, no,” she said, seeing his expression, “it’s nothing bad. I, uh, I just can’t tell you.” She laughed. 

“It’s funny?” he said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Sorta. I mean, Jane and have lots of laughs about it sometimes.”

“You can’t put that out there and not tell me,” he said, relaxing. She was looking at him with an almost playful expression.

“Okay,” she said, checking over her shoulder again. She lowered her voice. “The truth is, I’m very good at sex. Naturally. It’s not something I worked on, I just am.”

“What?” he sputtered.

“Shhh,” Darcy said. “Jane says I shouldn’t mention it, for my own protection. It makes men weird, so I try to meet nice guys and hold off on the sex until we have a solid basis for a real relationship. Otherwise, they tend to booty call me, like London guy tonight.”

“That’s why he called?” Brock asked. 

“Yeah. Those are kinda funny, though. Usually, I just say I’m somewhere else--because I am--and they go away disappointed, but polite and Jane and I laugh about their voicemails,” she said, laughing. “Sometimes, it makes men stupid, though, and that’s what makes Jane overprotective.”

“Stupid how?” he said, sounding oddly intense.

“We say that Ian moved to Yorkshire, but really, Jane broke his nose after she heard him tell his buddies in a pub that my name should be Darcy Goodhead—are you okay?” she said. He’d made a startled sound like he was choking.

“Uh, yeah,” Brock said, swallowing.

“I don’t actually think Ian meant to say that, but British binge drinking is a real problem. He was piss his pants drunk at the time,” she said.

“Yeah?” Brock said, still stunned.

“When Jane hit him, he pissed his pants,” Darcy said. “I shouldn’t have told you. Jane will be upset. She says this is like my massage thing, men don’t get it.”

“No, I won’t say anything,” he said. “Jesus Christ. Why did you tell me?” He threw back his head and laughed.

“What are you laughing about in there?” Jane called.

“Pretend it never happened?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. He was not going to be able to forget.

“Nothing, Jane!” Darcy said. “What?” she whispered, when she caught him staring blankly.

“I thought something bad happened to you,” he said. “Not that you’re—you’re—“

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Jane is going to yell at me if you go all weird on us. Are there any more candy bars?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’ll get you one.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I do sort of wish I could have had a chance with pre-serum Steve, though,” she mused. “I could have done a lot with that man.”

“You could have killed him!” Brock said, his imagination in overdrive. He’d seen those Smithsonian photos of a 90 lb Steve.

“Huh. You know, Jane says the same thing,” Darcy said.

“Steve doesn’t know?” he said.

“Nah. Why would I tell him now?” she said. She took the 5th Avenue out of his hand. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Yeah, Fury’d be pissed if he de-serumed himself to get in your pants and you gave him a heart attack,” Brock said thoughtfully.

“You think he would? Awwww, that’s sweet,” Darcy said. “Do you want some of this?” She tilted the candy bar towards him.

“Yeah,” he said, snapping off a chunk and eating it. It was ridiculously sweet and stuck to the roof of his mouth a little. “What is in this?” he asked.

“Peanut butter crunch, it’s like a brittle, but thinner,” she said, licking  a little melted chocolate off her thumb.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” he muttered.

“What?” she said.

“You just friendzoned me--don’t shake your head, yes, you did--and now you’re licking your fingers?” he said. 

“How did I friendzone you?” she said.

“You told me the sex story, which means if I ever even flirt with you, you’re gonna say it’s because of that, not because I actually genuinely want to flirt with you. You do that a lot,” he said in an aggrieved voice.

“Do what?” she said.

“You know what,” he said, stealing her candy bar.

“Hey, give that back!” Darcy said.

“It’s mine now, princess,” he teased.

“How dare you take my chocolate,” Darcy said. She was grabbing for the candy bar when Jane cleared her throat behind them.

“What exactly is going on?” Jane said. Darcy looked up from where she was half-laying across him.

“He took my candy,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anybody else remember the Highlander spin-off tv show? It's based on the Lambert/Connery 80s movies about immortals, but centered on a cousin of Lambert's character, played by the ridiculously handsome actor Adrian Paul (I sort of imagine Darcy getting into old movies first from less-good contemporary movies & tv shows with flashbacks & period settings, like this or "Pearl Harbor" or whatever). Elizabeth Gracen played a character named Amanda (a sneaky & charming thief) and I still love her character's style, even though is very 90s/severe/takes cues from her character's 1930s past. Jason Isaacs, aka Lucius Malfoy, is her partner in crime in the flashback Paris scenes of this episode: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFJMj41Sx9M
> 
> ETA: For anyone with Bucky questions, I have a whole AU headcanon for this story: Steve became friends with Crown Prince T'Challa after Steve & STRIKE Alpha recovered some smuggled goods, including vibranium, during a mission. Steve went against Fury's orders (Fury: "Cap, we could use that to make you, I dunno, a backup shield?") and returned all the stolen stuff, because he hates looting/saw the Nazis do it in WWII (Steve: "I'll take whatever demotion you want to give me. I returned it to the Wakandans, because it was the right thing to do"). 
> 
> So, when triple!agents Brock & Jack found Bucky in cryo and busted him out of HYDRA, T'Challa volunteered to treat & hide Bucky from the wrath of various governments and Tony Stark. Steve visits often.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is a fan of Kevyn Aucoin's makeup books in this AU.
> 
> "There are two types of people in the world: people who are passionate about things, and people who've had their passion punched, beaten, or whatever out of them." --Kevyn Aucoin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Week 3

Blacksburg, VA

Mountain Regency Hotel

Conference Day/Night 1

  


Brock checked to make sure they were up on time the next morning. Jane had an early am panel on the first day, then was going to a few of the other panels to support her friends. “Hey, we’re awake,” Darcy told him when she answered the door. “Jane’s in the shower,” she said.

“What are you doing?” he asked, gesturing to her hair. She was wearing a bathrobe and had her hair already set in foam twisty roller sticks.

“Getting ready,” she said. “I’m ‘bout to put my face on.”

“What’s the schedule for today?” he asked.

“Come inside, I’ll tell you,” Darcy said. “I need my makeup time. This takes twenty minutes.”

“What?” he said.

“Kevyn Aucoin says it’s a mistake to rush the transformation,” she said. “Or maybe it was Kevyn Aucoin quoting RuPaul?" At his confused look, Darcy realized he didn't know who she was talking about. "Sorry. This is the schedule,” she said. Darcy passed him a print-out. She always gave Jane a conference schedule, then let Jane pick what she wanted to attend. “We’re going to Jane’s panel, then two panels after lunch. Dr. Alves and Dr. Morgan from last night are on those. Jane is invited to dinner with some of the deans, so you’ll need to tag along for that. It’s a formal dinner.” She turned on her music with her phone and travel speaker. Today was a Pink Martini sort of day. She needed a little _Hey Eugene_ to put herself in the right mood.

“You don’t go to those?” Brock asked. He sat on her bed. She had her makeup already out, alongside a little mirror on the table in the room and she sat down and shook her head.

“No. I stay in my room and get takeout or pizza, it’s my reward,” she said. She pumped out foundation and dotted it on her face, then swabbed it with a foundation brush. Next, she took her concealer and used it on her dark circles and blemishes. She followed that up by dabbing a pink cream eyeshadow all over her lids and then working a bit of brown eyeliner along her top lash line in a smudge and down around her bottom lash line. She’d modified her makeup look from a popular Youtube makeup series’ video on Ava Gardner.

“Isn’t that a lot of makeup?” he asked suddenly. She was dusting Coty AirSpun powder on. Her mom had worn AirSpun when she was little; the scent was one of Darcy’s favorite smells. It reminded her of hugs and home.

“It’s not a lot,” she said.

“But why are you getting all fancy?” he asked.

“Because,” she said, putting the lid back on the powder. She tapped and swirled her pink blush, then swept it over her cheeks. She wasn’t used to talking or being watched as she worked.

“Because?” he asked. She was using that glow stuff he’d bought her, he realized, after she’d put all that blush on. She dabbed it on her cheekbones and beneath her eyebrows.

“Because the first time I went to one of these with a now-famous Jane, I wore my schlub clothes and no makeup. Lo and behold, people wanted to take Jane’s photo. Of course, I was in the background of all of them, looking half-dead like Nosferatu. So, now I make sure I look pretty,” she told him. “This seems like a lot in person, but it will look good in pictures.”

“Huh,” he said. “What the hell is that?”

“Metal eyelash curler,” she said, curling the lashes on her left eye.

“They tortured people in HYDRA with stuff that looked like that,” he joked. She rolled her eyes, then did the right eye. Then she brushed mascara on her lashes. “Wear your new lipstick?” he said. He sounded almost tentative.

“Sure,” Darcy told him. She picked the flamingo one and then swatched it to her closest lipliner.

“What is that?” he said as she lined and penciled in her lips. She liked to overdraw them slightly.

“It’s lipliner,” she said, grinning. “It helps your lipstick stay on longer and not bleed. Have you never lived with a woman before?”

“Not recently,” he said, smiling. “Not in years and I wasn’t paying attention then.” Jane opened the bathroom door--wrapped in a towel--and inhaled sharply.

“What are you doing here?” she said to Brock.

“Waiting while Darcy gets ready,” he said.

“You two weirdos are weird,” Jane said. “I’m getting dressed in the bathroom.”

“I put your outfit on the bed,” Darcy said. She’d laid out Jane’s outfit for her already.

“I’ll leave,” Brock said, rising.

“No, stay,” Jane said. “It’s not _at all_ strange that you’re watching Darcy take curlers out of her hair.” She got her clothes and went back to the bathroom.

“That’s what those are?” Brock said in a baffled voice.

“Yup,” Darcy said. Finished with her makeup, she’d started untwisting and rolling out the foam sticks.

“Wow,” he said, when she’d taken them all out and her hair was all big and wavy. “That looks great,” he said. Darcy laughed.

“I have to brush it out a little,” she told him.

“Why?” he said.

“Because,” she said, brushing her curls.

“Do you know any other words?” he asked, coughing a little as she used hairspray. “That is horrible.”

“Yup, I know two: get out. I need to take this robe off,” Darcy said. She only had on underwear underneath. She made him wait in the hallway while she got dressed in a pair of leggings and a sweater. Jane came out of the bathroom, looking very professional in a slim black suit, and raised her eyebrow.

“Why was he hanging around while you got ready?” she said in a low voice.

“He bought me lipstick,” Darcy said, pulling on her boots.

“Brock bought you lipstick?” Jane said.

“While you were peeing, he got me lipstick and caramel corn yesterday,” Darcy said.

“You don’t think that’s odd?” Jane said.

“He’s my buddy, Jane. Like Robert. We’re friends,” Darcy said.

“Robert has a boyfriend,” Jane pointed out.

“Do you think I need a scarf?” Darcy asked.

“Yes, you always say these rooms are freezing,” Jane told her. Darcy put on a scarf, coat, and hat, just to be safe. “But hurry, I need caffeine before I see that one asshole on the panel,” she said.

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. "Which one is it this time?"

“Fred Vaughn," Jane said.

"Booo," Darcy said. He was a schmuck.

"You’re usually ready,” Jane commented.

“Being watched made me a little slower,” Darcy said.

“See? You admit the weirdness,” Jane said.

 

“You look nice,” Brock said, when she came out of the room with Jane. She was all bundled up, he noted. Her lips were bright and striking against her pale skin. He was still looking at Darcy when Jane locked the door and picked up her briefcase.

“What?” Darcy said.

“She has her earbuds in," Jane explained. Darcy was swishing along to Pink Martini.

“What?” Darcy said again, popping them out.

“He said you look nice,” Jane said.

“You look nice, too, Jane,” Brock said.

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

“I’m practicing,” Brock said defensively. “It has to seem natural when we get back to DC.”

“I think we allllllll need cawfee,” Darcy said. “Jane is verklempt at this hour.”

“No Linda Richmond,” Jane scolded.

“I still say ‘talk amongst yourselves’ would be a great thing to say between the panel and the Q&A,” Darcy said.

“I’ll get the coffee once we get to--,” Brock checked his notes, “---Room 213 A, all right?” he said.

“Yeah,” they said in unison.

 

Darcy usually enjoyed conferences. Campuses were her happy place, anyway. But somehow, it was even more fun with Brock. He brought her flavored coffee--vanilla snowflake--and fruit, cheese, and pastries from the ever-present snack tables that morning as the university panel was being set up by grad student workers. “How does this work?” Brock asked her, after she’d thanked him for the coffee.

“We smile and nod, my angel,” she said.

“Angel?” he said.

“You brought me coffee and a danish without my asking, I’m pretty sure you’re from heaven,” she teased. “But, yeah, that’s my big conference job: schlep Jane’s stuff and nod for Jane so she has someone reassuring to look at while she talks.” Darcy had done enough speaking as an undergrad at Culver to realize that a sea of unsmiling, blank, or unfriendly expressions was miserable to see from the stage. So, she always nodded firmly and applauded loudly for Jane.

“Okay,” he said. “Anything else?”

“Have you ever seen Cary Grant in _The Bishop’s Wife_?” she asked.

“No. Why?” he asked.

“He was an angel, too,” she said.

“Cut it out, Lewis,” he said.

 

During the Q&A, he nudged Darcy’s leg with his knee and whispered, “who are these people?”

“Oh, this is a conference thing. It’s a comment disguised as a question,” Darcy said, as the audience member with the microphone rambled. Next to them, another audience member sighed heavily.

 

They spent the whole day together trailing Jane to various science panels and talks. There were a lot of selfies, between starstruck professors and college-aged Thor fans, and they ended up in the background of most of them. “I think I get it now,” Brock told her, as they walked across campus. They were trying to get back to the hotel.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “Everyone loves Jane.”

“Do I need to make any of these people step back?” he asked, as an enthusiastic frat bro slung his arm around Jane.

“Wooot, this lady’s been to Asgard! That shit is in space!” he yelled. “That is badass!”

“Is he drunk?” Brock asked.

“I don’t think so, but sometimes it’s hard to tell,” she admitted.

 

Once they got back, he and Jane prepared to leave for the dean’s dinner. It was being held in a private room in one of the fanciest campus buildings. “Stay in the hotel room, keep the door locked, and check your phone,” Brock said to her firmly as they stood in the doorway. Darcy had already changed into her pajamas and was going to be happily watching _48 Hours_ or _Dateline_ or something. She’d ordered pizza, too.

“Okay,” she said. She was tempted to say ‘yes, mom,’ but he looked weirdly serious.

“It’s always the spouse!” Jane called from down the hallway. “Bye, Darce.”

“Bye, Janey,” she said back. Brock paused.

“I’m serious about being careful,” he said. “This conference is full of strange people.”

“Oh, the Q&A people? Trust me, none of those people would hurt me or Jane. They inflict harm through nasty footnotes and stuff. Academic vendettas are passive-aggressive. Mostly. I mean, there’s the Unabomber, but he was an outlier--” Darcy said.

“What?” he said.

“I saw in a television special that the FBI caught him through linguistics analysis, did you know that? He used unusual phrases and spellings and his manifesto had document formatting that pinpointed him as someone who’d done a dissertation on a typewriter during a period when certain headings and rules were used,” Darcy said. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“Please don’t tell me these stories right before I leave you alone,” he said quietly.

“You like me, you really like me,” she said, reaching up to pinch his nose.

“Ow,” he said. “What did you do that for?”

“I dunno,” she said. “You have a really good nose, though.”

“You think my Italian nose is a good nose?” he said, sounding skeptical.

“Yup,” she said. “I like strong noses.”

“Oh--” he said.

“Are you coming?” Jane called. “Are you two being weird again?”

“I have to go,” he said. “Be careful, Lewis.”

  
  


***

 

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** This dean’s dinner is like slowly dying. I was less miserable when I hit the tree.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** They aren’t even feeding me, I’m just sitting in a corner.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** They’re a snoozefest, usually. All the unis want Jane to come to work for them, leave them papers, or (ideally) some Asgardian gold.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** What are you doing?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Eating a pizzzaaaaaaaa and watching _Ghostbusters_.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Original, Viggo, or Melissa McCarthy?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Orig **.** Somebody told Jane that the new one has a guy who looks REALLY like Thor and is super funny, though. I might stream it next.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I kinda hate you right now.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Please. You love me. You wish you were here.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** True. You realize you’re a total Jeanine with your nerd fetish, right?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Bite me, jelly. Sit there with all the waxworks like Bill Holden in _Sunset Boulevard_ for all I care.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Ugghhhhhh. I want to be dead in the swimming pool.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** If you live, I’ll save you pizza. We need to get you a better display name, though.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** What’s wrong with my name?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** BORING.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** What do you want it to be?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’m still deciding. These things take time.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Seriously?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Be patient. It will come to me.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I do want that pizza.

  


“Where’s my pizza, Lewis?” he said, when he brought Jane back that night.

“God, that was exhausting,” Jane said. “I’m going to bed. I can shower tomorrow.”

“Here it is,” Darcy said, gesturing to the pizza box on her nightstand.

“If you two are going to be weird, do it in his room,” Jane said grumpily. She’d kicked her shoes off. Then she face-planted into her bed.

“Is she going to sleep in her clothes?” Brock asked, looking puzzled.

“Probably,” Darcy said.

“Go away,” Joan groaned. She was face-first on the bed.

“C’mon,” Brock said. “You can lock her in, right? We’ll hang out in my room.”

 

He changed in the bathroom and emerged in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top that appeared to be from SHIELD’s Steve collection of tight tees. It was sexy, Darcy realized. He had great arm muscles and shoulders. “How’s your arm?” Darcy asked.

“Painful,” he admitted. “I’m sick of that sling.”

“How long do you have to wear it?” she asked.

“Four to six weeks,” he said, putting it on.

“So, Jane and I get to keep you for a whole month?” Darcy said, delighted.

“Yes,” he said, climbing into bed with her and the pizza box.

 

They were watching television when Brock looked over at her. “Do you want more pizza?” he asked.

“No, but I’ll take your pizza crust,” she said. “I love the crust.”

“Really?” Brock said.

“Yup,” she said. “I’m a bread girl.” She filched them off his plate and smiled happily. “It’s the marinara edge and the Parmesan and everything. So yummy.”

He looked at her and grinned. “You can have my pizza crust, princess,” Brock said.

“Why are you calling me princess?” Darcy asked.

“Because,” he said teasingly.

“Phhhft,” Darcy said.

“You’re a girly-girl,” he said. “Look at your pink pajamas and your little socks.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Darcy said, wiggling her toes. “I like unicorns.” He laughed.

“Have you met the photostatic veil team on floor twenty-three?” he asked.

“Nope,” Darcy said.

“You should, you’ve got real makeup talent. I’ve never seen anybody change their face so much in a few minutes...I mean, you made all your features look different,” he said in an awestruck tone. “Right now, you look like a normal college student, but you looked like a model this morning.” Darcy stared at him.

“Yeah?” she said, cringing internally. She’d taken all her makeup off before bed and was wearing her glasses.

“The floor twenty-three people could want to hire you to make those things,” he said seriously. “You’re like an artist with your face. It’s crazy. I mean, your eyes look like a different shape and a brighter color, your lips look bigger, everything. It’s amazing, what you do.”

“Oh, thanks,” Darcy said. “That’s the idea.” She tried to sound cheerful.

“I didn’t even think I liked makeup on women,” he said. 

“Really,” Darcy said. He didn’t seem to catch her tone.

“Do you do the same thing everyday?” he asked.

“No,” Darcy said. “It depends on what I feel like.”

“Yeah,” he said. On  _ Dateline _ , the husband--in his jail room interview, Darcy could tell, from the way they’d fuzzed out the background--was insisting he was innocent.

“Jane’s right, it’s always the spouse,” she said.

“Can I hang around again tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow?” she said.

“When you get ready,” he said.

“You want to watch me put my makeup on?” she asked, surprised.

“I really don’t like makeup on women, but I could watch you do that all day,” he said, passing her another bit of pizza crust. She sort of wanted to slap him with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Darcy's favorite current makeup look. Pixiwoo is great! If you haven't seen their "Hollywood Icons" special, it is incredible. This is an Ava Gardner tutorial, but it could easily double as your Peggy Carter Halloween makeup tutorial, too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgMCy6K7kMo
> 
> If you haven't heard of the late, great, much-missed Kevyn Aucoin, he was an INCREDIBLE artist: http://www.wicked-halo.com/2010/01/playing-pretend-hollywood-edition-kevyn-aucoin.html


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That freaking blue cube has bugged Darcy for years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Week 3

Blacksburg, VA

Mountain Regency Hotel

Conference Day/Night 2

Darcy woke up grumpy. Thankfully, they had a less-busy morning. This was Jane’s slowest conference day, so she was sleeping late. Darcy got up, got in the shower, and was wetting her hair when she thought about Brock’s weird backhanded compliments. Should she confront him about it? Did he even realize he was doing it? Probably not, Darcy realized. Wait, had she shampooed her hair already? Ughhhhhh, Darcy thought. He had her all rattled. This was like the time she and Jane had watched _Mulholland Drive_ and she’d hated it, but couldn’t stop thinking about that damn blue cube. She’d had trouble remembering if she’d shampooed her hair that week, too.

She had her bathrobe on and was towel drying her hair  when he knocked. She would confront him, she thought. She opened the door. He was smiling.  “Hi,” he said. “I brought lattes and chocolate chip muffins from the cafe downstairs,” he said. “Can I come in? Got you a pumpkin spice flavored coffee and a vanilla skim latte for Jane.” He had a coffee tray.

“Oh,” Darcy said, momentarily deflated. “Thank you.” She let him in; she loved pumpkin spice coffee.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“You need to stop making me all confused, like David Lynch,” she told Brock.

“David Lynch?” Brock said.

“The movie guy, he did _Mulholland Drive_ and uh,--” Darcy said.

“ _Twin Peaks_ ,” Brock supplied. “I loved _Twin Peaks._ ”

“I was too young for that. But anyway, you’re causing me stress,” she told him.

“What did I do?” he said, sounding utterly lost. “Did you not want pumpkin spice?”

“You keep giving me backhanded compliments and negging me,” she said. “You hurt my feelings last night when you said I only looked good with makeup.”

“What?” he said.

“You said I looked normal without makeup, but actually good with it? Like I have a natural troll face?” Darcy grumbled.

“No,” he said. “That is not what I said--I didn’t mean anything like that,” he said. “Why do you always assume I mean the worst possible interpretation of anything I say?”

“How else would you interpret that?” she asked archly.

“That, that--uh, shit,” he said. “I think you look about twenty without makeup, like all these college girls running around out there”--he gestured towards campus--”but you looked really great yesterday, too.”

“Great,” Darcy said.

“Like you could be in an old movie,” he said. “Shit. I’m not explaining this right. You’ve got really pale skin?” he offered.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’ve never seen anybody with skin and hair like yours,” he said. “Not in real life. You look like Audrey Horne, actually.”

“Who?” Darcy said.

“The _Twin Peaks_ girl. She had dark hair and pale skin, too,” he said.

“The dead one?” Darcy said. Wasn’t the whole point of _Twin Peaks_ some dead girl?

“No,” he said. “Hold on, I’ll show you. I can’t believe you haven’t seen _Twin Peaks._ ” He handed his phone to her. “See?”

“Oh,” Darcy said.  A very much not-dead actress’s face stared back at her from the screen. Darcy swiped the image.

“But that’s what you looked like yesterday,” Brock said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “She’s very beautiful.”

“We should watch _Twin Peaks_ when we get back,” he said.

“Is it scary?” Darcy asked. She’d always heard it was very dark. She couldn’t do very dark, violent things, because the onscreen images wedged themselves in her mind and stayed with her for days afterwards. Hence, that freaking blue cube.

“A little,” he said. “What makeup are you doing today?”

“I dunno, we don’t have to go anywhere except to one afternoon panel with one of Jane’s friends,” Darcy said. “I hadn’t decided. This is a good coffee. Did you want to split a muffin with me?”

“Sure,” he said. He cut it in half with a knife from a holster in his boot.

“Why do you have hidden knives on your person?” she joked.

“You never know,” he said.

“It’s a very good muffin,” she said, once she was done. She washed her hands, then returned to the table. He was still eating. “So, makeup,” Darcy said.  

“I’m not rushing you, am I?” he asked, looking at her with a neutral expression.

“No,” Darcy said, sitting down. “I do the same foundation everyday, just different blush, eyes, and lips,” she explained. She put her foundation, concealer, and powder on, then looked at the makeup she’d brought. “Hmmmm,” she thought.

“What about this one?” he said, pointing to a rose lip gloss.

“That one?” she said. “With this, I would use the blush from yesterday and maybe do a champagne eyeshadow and a liquid liner,” she said. He was quiet as she did her eyes carefully.

“That looks difficult,” he said, when she’d done the liquid eyeliner.

“It’s easier because it’s a pen,” she told him. “I used to have a really nice liquid one in a bottle that I put on with a brush, but it dried out.”

“Oh,” he said.

“It’s hot in New Mexico,” she said, shrugging. “Also, it was sort of my fault. I should have used it everyday, instead of saving it for special occasions.”

“Was it expensive?” he said.

“Uh-huh. Jane did not get why I was sad,” Darcy joked. When she made a fish face to apply her blush on the sides of her face (like it was 1973), she caught him grinning. “Are you laughing at me now?”

“A little,” he admitted.

 

After she’d finished, he got up to use the bathroom. “You goober,” Jane said, opening her eyes when the door shut.

“What?” Darcy said, startled. She’d thought Jane was asleep.

“He wants you,” Jane said in a hiss.

“He basically said I was a troll face with Casper the Friendly Ghost paleness, Jane,” Darcy said in a whisper.

“Bull, I heard him. He thinks you look like Audrey Horne ? C’mon,” Jane said, replying in a low voice.

“I don’t get it,” Darcy said.

“You’ve really never seen _Twin Peaks_?” Jane said.

“Nope,” Darcy said.

“Audrey Horne is the sexy teenager who wears retro things and falls for the much older _federal agent_ , hellllloooo. She was, like, a sex fantasy girl for guys his age, probably,” Jane said. “Also, he’s watching you do your makeup now? You’ve induced a spontaneous fetish in a forty year old man.”

“How can watching me put concealer on my dark circles be a fetish?” Darcy said.

“Anything can be a fetish. Remember when you realized those haircutting videos on Youtube were fetish things?” Jane said.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy said, shuddering. “The comments.” Darcy had been trying to learn to trim Jane’s hair in the wilds of Norway to save them a two hour trip to the nearest salon in the cold and they’d figured out that some men really had things for women cutting their hair into bobs with clippers.

“What exactly is he doing in our bathroom?” Jane said, snickering.

“Oh em gee, shut up your face,” Darcy said, as Brock emerged from the bathroom.

“Hi, Jane, I’ll let you get ready,” he said. “Did you want more coffee?” he said to Darcy.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said.

“I owe you money--” she said, going for her wallet.

“Nope,” he said, shutting the door.

 

As soon as he left, she looked at Jane. “It’s not a fetish, you should have heard him last night, talking about how I have a normal, boring, _plain Jane_ face without makeup,” Darcy said. She stressed the words ‘plain Jane.’ Jane got out of bed, rolling her eyes. The phrase was one of her pet peeves.

“Yeah, right. I mean, look at the names of this stuff,” Jane said, picking up Darcy’s makeup. “Afterglow? Fire & Ice? Hug Me? This one is actually called _Orgasm_ , Darce. Don’t tell me you’re not engaging in some kind of role-play thing.”

“Put down my NARS, that was expensive, Dr. Freud,” Darcy said. “He doesn’t know the names.”

“He knows that you’re putting lipgloss on your mouth--out of phallic tubes!--and he likes to watch you do it, apparently,” Jane said. “Shiny, sticky lipgloss named...Naked?”

“You really need to learn to filter,” Darcy said. “And that is not what I’m wearing. This is a matte lip creme called Rosewood.”

“Oh, that’s better,” Jane said, giggling. “Rosewood?”

“Ahhh,” Darcy said, realizing the double entendre. “What even is my life?”

“I’m getting dressed,” Jane said.

 

“He laughed at me,” Darcy told Jane a few minutes later. “How can it be a sex thing if he laughs at my blush fish face?”

 

***

 

She spent most of the day not talking to him or touching him too much; they were following Jane around. It was easier to be quiet _and_ Jane was being dragged all around the various buildings on an impromptu tour slash meet and greet, so Darcy was having to hoof it. Plus, Jane would accuse her of purposefully flirting. It wasn’t until later in the after that he stopped her, as they were in the Cultural Arts building. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“My feet hurt,” she said honestly.

“Oh,” he said. “Why don’t we make Jane do her meet and greet somewhere stationary, like the lobby?” he asked.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She didn’t know how he finagled it, but suddenly, they had people coming to Jane instead of the reverse. Then some grad student came over with a Diet Coke and potato chips for Darcy. She’d sunk into one of the lobby benches and been seriously tempted to take off her shoes. But that would be rude, right?

“Here you are,” the grad student said. “These are for you.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s very nice of you,” Darcy told him, assuming it was the student workers helping with the conference stuff who’d taken pity on her.

“Your boyfriend was very insistent, I couldn’t say no,” the student joked. “He let me keep the change, too.” He looked across the lobby and Darcy realized he meant Brock, who was watching the entrances.

 

When he came over to her later, she thanked him. “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I know you need regular snacks to maintain your buoyancy,” he cracked. He sat down next to her and put his feet up on one of the little plastic and laminate tables next to her bench.

“Are you calling me fat?,” Darcy said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

“I was thinking about your moods, not your weight,” he said, looking up at her.

“Sure,” she said, “right.”

“You’re very sensitive, aren’t you?” he said. “Is it just insecurity?”

“I don’t know why I even talk to you sometimes,” Darcy said, turning and walking away. She was headed towards the bathroom when he pulled her into a corridor, away from the people still chatting with Jane.

“Excuse me, you’ve haven’t talked to me--you been giving me the damn cold shoulder all day long,” he said, leaning into her face. “Yesterday, I’m your angel and we spend all day talking and today you put your earbuds in and barely speak to me. But I’m not so hypersensitive that I’d snub you like you snubbed me.”

“I’m not hypersensitive,” Darcy said.

“No?” he said, getting into her space. “Because  I think you’re very, very sensitive. All over the damn place. One minute, we’re having a great time, the next minute you’re pissed at me because I don’t, like, fucking compliment you the correct way?”

“Ughhhhhh,” Darcy said, crossing her arms. “It’s like you have no idea how you sound at all.” She slid around his injured arm and walked away.

“Where are you going?” he said.

“I have to pee,” she said.

 

When she came back out of the bathroom, he was doing his serious security face behind Jane again. She felt annoyed and relieved simultaneously. It was a strange feeling. “Why are the two of you fighting?” Jane said, as the three of them left to go back to the hotel. They were catching a campus shuttle.

“We’re not fighting, we’re having a discussion,” Brock said. Darcy spoke at the same time.

“You know why, Jane,” she said. They were at the shuttle stop.

“Why does she know?” Brock said.

“Jane thinks I’ve given you a makeup fetish,” Darcy said, as the bus pulled up.

“I don’t fucking wear makeup,” he said, affronted. Some undergrads getting off the shuttle stared at them.

“No, but you certainly like to watch Darcy wear makeup, don’t you?” Jane said, bouncing onto the shuttle bus with a cackle.

“How have you not murdered her?” Brock said to Darcy.

 

***

 **Commander Oblivious:** It’s not a fetish thing.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** We’re sitting next to each other on a bus and you’re texting me?

 **Commander Oblivious:** I didn’t feel like including Jane in this conversation.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Oh. Good point.

 **Commander Oblivious:** I’m not some sicko, okay?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I never said you were. Jane just implied that we were having a weird flirtation thing involving lip gloss and my sexiest makeup names.

 **Commander Oblivious:** Sexy makeup names?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Don’t ask.

 **Commander Oblivious:** But I want to know, princess.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** STAHPPPPPPPPP.

 **Commander Oblivious:** You love flirting with me, don’t try to pretend you don’t.

 **Commander Oblivious:** I’m offended that a little criticism from Jane scares you away from talking to me, though.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’m sorry. She just smirks so knowingly. Especially since I remember her when she was eating ice cream on her mom’s sofa in smelly socks and crying over Thor.

 **Commander Oblivious:** Tiny Science has some nerve. Also, this display name? It hurts my feelings.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Oh. Sorry. I’ll change it.

 **Commander Oblivious:** Good.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I’d appreciate that.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Much better.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Jane’s wrong, I wasn’t turned on watching you put on makeup this morning.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Okay, I believe you.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I was turned on because your robe was a little open.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Broooooock.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Tell me your sexiest makeup names.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No!

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Why not?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Because, it’s too embarrassing.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Okay, I’ll ask after you’ve had some more professor chardonnay, then you’ll tell me anything.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Ugghhhhh. Ok, fine.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** There’s a whole line of NARS products called Orgasm, okay? They’re very pretty, but it’s hella awkward if someone asks what it is.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** What are you doing?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I know what I’m giving you for Christmas now.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Jane will razz me forever.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** You can’t.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** It’s really expensive.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Like, really really.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** You did not just order that.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** This is going to be great for your work rep. You’ll see.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** You can’t tell people AT WORK you’re giving me Orgasm makeup.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Baby, they’ll think I’m giving you all the orgasms.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** This is stupid. Who is impressed by that?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Everyone. What else do you want for Christmas?

 

“I do not need presents if you’re going to make that face,” she said.

“Sure you do,” Brock said. He grinned at Darcy, then turned to where Jane was sitting behind them. “Jane,” he said.

“Yeah?” Jane said. She looked up from her notebook.

“Don’t razz my little princess about her makeup stuff anymore,” he said. “Or I’ll stop bringing you coffee and muffins.”

“You’re the one with foot-in-mouth syndrome,” Jane said. “Also, Darcy is my person. I won’t tolerate you trying to steal her from me.”

“It’s cute how Tiny Science thinks she can come between us,” Brock said, relaxing into the shuttle seat. “I’m onto you now, Jane.”

 

***

 

“I didn’t know academics were like this,” Brock said, when he slid onto a barstool next to Darcy that night. The bar at their hotel was like something out of singles’ night in a movie from 1982. Jane was in the corner doing shots with some friends from her graduate program. “Some guy just grabbed my ass, but I looked at him and he slowed his roll,” Brock said.

“Dr. Friedbach?” Darcy said.

“How’d you know?” he said. He’d noted the guy’s name tag.

“He’s already on probation for being inappropriate at the Denver conference. Jane is working on getting him blacklisted, so she’ll want you to write up a report,” Darcy said.

“A report?” he said.

“Honestly, you’d be doing her--and everybody else--a real favor. He needs to be banned, but some grad students are afraid to file them. It won’t impact your career negativity, so you’d be helping stop his reign of ass pinching,” she said, nursing her one mai tai. She liked the little umbrellas.

“Jesus,” Brock said. “Really?”

“You think universities are different from anywhere else? You? Guy I overheard talking about me being a big-boobed dumb blonde wannabe on my first day at SHIELD?” she said in a low teasing voice.

“You’re not dumb,” he said.

“I’m not blonde, either,” she said, paraphrasing Dolly Parton.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he said. His eyes raked her cleavage. She thought he looked a little eager, but then his expression darkened. “Friedbach didn’t touch you, did he?” he asked suddenly, sounding flinty and mean.

“Nope,” Darcy said, “but certain people get reputations.”

“I can’t believe scientific conferences are like this,” he repeated, shaking his head.

“They’re always like this. People treat them like Vegas parties sometimes, which is fine, if you want to do that,” Darcy said, smiling at a grad student from MIT named Dave. She’d spent fifteen minutes talking to Dave after Jane’s panel talk on day one. Darcy had gone upstairs and put on a shirt that better showcased the girls and more of her Pink Sugar in the hope that someone like Dave would come flirt with her tonight. Dave smiled at Darcy, but then turned back to his table. “Damn,” she muttered, trying to keep her smile in place.

“You’re striking out with that nerdlinger, too,” Brock said, shaking his head, after he’d ordered a second whiskey and soda water. Blech, Darcy thought. So bitter.

“Pardon me?” Darcy said. "Are you supposed to drink that with your shoulder meds?"

“I felt the need. You’re overdoing it. Let him chase you. Even Revenge of the Nerds over there likes the chase, princess. You can’t flirt _and_ wear those sexy clothes _and_ smell like a damn cupcake, he thinks you’re too easy. It loses some of the thrill,” he said. “Pick one or the other. It’s strategic.”

“I cannot believe you have the nerve--” she began.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” he said. “I’m trying to help you here. I’m not saying you actually are easy. He’s the one making assumptions. He doesn’t realize you have a serious, bizarre thing for asthmatic guys.” He chuckled. “And little Strawberry Shortcake boys. Or that he’s missing out.”

“Hey,” she said, “that’s mean.”

“I’m happy he’s not Billy Russo, though,” he said.

“You really can’t stand Billy, can you?” she asked. He shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure he got some unarmed Iraqi kids killed and didn’t bat an eyelash,” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Once she’d realized Anvil was like Blackwater, she was even less interested in Billy, honestly. She’d much rather date a barista or something.

“With your looks and body, you should probably try being cold and aloof, the Daves and Cams would be chasing you around the bar,” he said. “Treat ‘em like shit, they’ll think you’re hard to get. It’s that Woody Allen complex those guys have--you’re a club that will take them, so they don’t want to join. Once you’re in bed with ‘em, it’s your show.”  Darcy laughed.

“Stop trying to neg me, you stink. You're in a mood tonight. I don’t believe in changing my personality, anyway,” she said. “It’s better if someone likes you for you.” She thought it was dumb to pretend to be stuck up or do that Rules thing. Besides, what if a shy person needed some encouragement? She was a naturally not-aloof person.

“Of course you think that,” he said, grinning. He shook his head again.

“What’s that mean?” she said.

“You work at an agency that has some of the toughest physical and psychological criteria for employment in the active field agent division, but you’re drawn to _Cameron Klein_? Baby, Cap is single and Jack thinks you’re a ‘bonzer sheila,’ whatever the hell that means. You’re leaving real options on the table. You could have a tall child who isn’t nearsighted,” he cracked. His voice had turned playful.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, laughing in spite of herself.

“Who hurt you as a child?” he teased.

“Enough with the negging,” Darcy said. “I don’t believe in that nonsense.”

“I’m not negging, I’m being honest,” he said. “Do you not see what’s happening in your love life?”

“I know exactly what’s happening. You’re frightening all the cute boys here away with your scowling and your arm sling and your, uh, tattoos,” she said. He’d pushed up the sleeve on his uninjured arm. He had a calligraphic-looking tattoo on the back of his forearm.

“I got it in Thailand,” he said. “After a mission. Both arms. It’s spiritual.”

“Because you’re such a spiritual guy. So Jon Kabat-Zinn,” Darcy said teasingly. “What with all the jumping out of planes and shooting people,” she said in a lower voice.

“You think dangerous things aren’t spiritual? Trust me, those are the most spiritual things there are,” he said intensely. That sent him into a long conversational digression about how transcendent it was to fight for something.

“You think fighting is like a religious experience?” she said, gesturing for a second mai tai. He’d turned oddly intense on her, all joking dropped.

“It is,” he said. “It really is. Or it can be. I’m always trying to get back to that. Fury sent us to Burma for a workshop--”

“Myanmar Burma?” she asked. “I thought it was difficult to visit?”

“Used to be, but now that they’re not a dictatorship, they’re trying to promote traditional martial arts,” he explained. “They’ve opened up the fights to foreigners. But there were these kids in fight school, it was incredible, they’re thirteen years old, fighting with the most rudimentary equipment you could imagine--no fancy gloves, no fancy bags. They don’t have food. Literally, going to bed hungry. And they’re really good and really determined. Here I am, with my fancy STRIKE gym, eating beef, bitching because SHIELD changed how they calculate my overtime? Made me feel spoiled and shitty.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “But obviously, you work,” she said, indicating his injured shoulder.

“That? That’s nothing. I have a doctor, I have a 401k, I have meds for pain,” he scoffed. “Everything about my life is cream puff,” he said, with an odd edge to his voice. “But you know. You and Jane know that better than anybody. Look at how hard you worked to get here. Fury gave me your files when he transferred me to light duty. I hadn’t seen them before. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Darcy said.

“That Jane’s a damn genius who has revolutionized her field and that the two of you had to make your own equipment out of discount stuff at Radio Shack and duct tape and crash on people’s couches for years until somebody started paying attention,” he said hotly. “Meanwhile, Dr. Grab-Ass over there probably had a full-time job, didn’t he?”

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Dr. Grab-Ass has had tenure since Clinton was elected, probably. It’s what makes him think he can get away with it.”

“I admire what you did,” he said quietly. “It takes guts to do that. You stuck with your friend, didn’t play it safe and get an office job after Puente Antiguo.” Darcy snorted.

“You really don’t know how much I hate an 8-5 schedule, do you?” she said. “Jane lets me get away with wandering off for coffee or Sephora.” He laughed.

“C’mon, don’t minimize it--” he began, but she cut him off.

“Tell me about Burma?” she asked. “What’s it like? I’m sure that’s more interesting than me and Jane taping things together in her mom’s kitchen. I was a poli sci major, you know.”

“I know,” he said.

 

A half-hour later, Jane and her Science! Cohort stumbled over to them. “We’re taking the party upstairs! Wooooo!” Jane said.

“I got tequila in my purse,” one of the other women said.

"They've moved from chardonnay to tequila?" Brock said to Darcy.

"We're private sector!" Tequila woman said. "We keep it real."

One of Jane’s ex-classmates was eyeing Brock openly. “Whoooo are you?” she slurred.

“I’m just here to make sure Jane gets upstairs okay,” he said. “Let’s go, ladies.” He herded them into the elevator.

“I thought Thor was bloooooonde,” the woman said to Jane, either not hearing him or too wasted to comprehend.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Thor is blonde. This is Loki. He cut his hair.” The woman swayed and squinted, looking at Brock.

“Oh, okay. You look taller on television,” she said.

“More murdery on television, too,” Darcy said happily.

“Until tonight,” Brock grumbled, as they stepped off onto Jane’s floor. Darcy laughed. The drunk scientists took off running and whooping.

“I have a rooooooom key and a hot boyfriend who loves me,” Jane said. “Whoops, why you no work?” she said to the plastic card.

“Wrong room,” Darcy said to Jane. The least-drunk of the group got them to the right door and they stumbled inside. Darcy and Rumlow were standing in the hall when someone started playing loud music. “Oh, no,” Darcy said.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Their dance break CD from grad school. It’s mostly Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift, plus “She Blinded Me With Science.” They’ll be drinking for another hour at least,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.

“Come hide in my room, we’ll have overpriced macadamia nuts until the party winds down,” he said.

"Do you still have candy?" she asked.

"Uh, no." He'd eaten her last 5th Avenue bar after their weird squabble in the morning, when it became clear she wasn't talking to him on purpose.

 

“You were right about the three rooms thing,” she admitted, once they were in his room.

“Shouldn’t have changed it,” he said wryly. He leaned over to look in the mini-fridge, as she took off her bag and coat. “Looks like we’re all out of overpriced macadamia nuts. How do you feel about honey roasted peanuts?” he asked.

“Oh, I like those better,” she said. He tossed her the bag and laughed when she missed it and it landed on the carpet.

“You want a drink? No little mai tais, but I have little vodkas, little beers, little wine, little prosecco…”

“Little prosecco. Don’t throw it,” she said warningly.

“Come get it, klutz,” he teased.

They plopped down on the bed. “Tell me about Thailand?” she asked, stretching out.

“It was amazing,” he said. When he talked about traveling, he lit up. She could listen to him talk about southeast Asia for hours.  He told funny stories about trying be stoic while he’d gotten the Thai tattoos, how Jack Rollins would eat anything--STRIKE Alpha had a made a game of finding unusual stuff for him to try--and all kinds of interesting things about fighting styles. He was genuinely enthusiastic about it. He even did funny impressions of himself running from a rat in Vietnam.  

“A rat?” Darcy said.

“I’m from New York, I draw the line at rats,” he said, twitching a little.

“Are you scared of rats?” she said.

“It’s not a phobia if they carry disease,” he insisted.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said skeptically.

“Plague, Lewis. They still have plague,” Brock said.

 

“Uh, I have to go back,” Darcy said, once she could tell he was flagging. It was really late. They’d run out of peanuts and she could hear whooping across the hall.

“You could stay with me?” he offered. “It’s a big bed. And I won’t ask for a demo of your sex skills.”

“Okay,” she said.

“I was a skinny, gawky kid, though. If that does anything for you,” he said, grinning. “I used to be your type, until I started boxing.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, giggling. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said. He gave her a lingering look.

“Did you want to fool around?” she asked teasingly.

“Uhhh,” he said, stunned. “I thought you didn’t want to?”

“Good point,” Darcy said. “Nevermind. Let’s watch John Mulaney instead.” She grinned at him.

“Tease,” he said wryly. She thought he looked tired, though.

“Do you want me to rub your shoulders?” she offered.

“God, that would be nice,” he said.

"Slide up and I'll get behind you," she said. "You're going to love John Mulaney, he's great."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Kat Dennings is a self-described makeup junkie and I especially love this look on her, so it's my head canon for Darcy's makeup in this chapter: http://www.zimbio.com/photos/Kat+Dennings/People+s+Choice+Awards+2012/MCd8H321no0


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Dana Scully facepalm gif]

Darcy woke up next to Brock in the morning. “Hi,” she said. He smiled at her.

“Hey,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, but she noticed he winced as he shifted onto his good shoulder to look at her.

“You’re in pain,” she said.

“It’s not too bad, you helped last night,” he said. “I can tell my neck isn’t as tight.”

“Sit up, she told him. “Let me work on it again.”

“You’re bossy, but I might keep you,” he said, grinning. He sat up and she crawled between him and the headboard. “Why don’t you go to school for massage therapy? You’re good at at it.”

“Nah, Shiva had all these work-related injuries. Apparently, you can wreck your own hands and shoulders and stuff.”

“What what that guy like? He wasn’t really named Shiva, was he?” he said teasingly.

“Shhhh,” she said, “I can tell that’s not a serious question.”

“I’m serious,” he said.

“His name was Archibald,” she said. “His family was fancy British.”

“Shit, I’d change my name to Shiva, too,” he said, laughing. “But don’t tell my mother that, it’s exactly the kind of name she’d like for a future grandchild.”

“Shiva Rumlow?” Darcy said.

“My name is Brock and she named my little sister Fallon,” he said grumpily. “She thinks that was creative.” He scoffed.

“I think those are awesome,” she said.

“You’re never meeting my mother, Lewis. She’d like you too much,” he said. As she worked on his neck, Darcy sighed.

“What?” Brock said. “Do you want to meet my mother?”

“You have the best neck,” she told him as she kneaded his shoulder carefully. He had significant knots where his neck met his shoulder, she could tell.

“What?” he said.

“It’s attractive,” Darcy told him.

“If you think my neck is hot….” he teased. “Wait, help me with my shirt?”

“Yeah,” she said, slipping it gently over on arm, then the other.

“Uhhh,” he groaned, as she pressed around his now-exposed back and shoulder blades.

“Tell me if it hurts?” Darcy asked.

“No, feels so good,” he murmured. “So good, princess.”

Darcy snorted. “I’m such a princess,” she said sarcastically. Still, she kept working on him. His body was incredible.

“You’re very girly and feminine,” Brock said.

“I’m not that feminine. It’s not like I’m all matchy-matchy,” Darcy pointed out.

“Matchy-matchy?” he said.

“I don’t, like, have purses or matching shoes dyed for all my outfits,” she said.

“That’s a thing?” he said.

“It used to be?” Darcy said, pressing her thumbs into the side of his neck and then down over his back above his spine. Her Grandma Lewis was big into having her shoes match. She was feminine, Darcy thought. By comparison, Darcy was low-key and Jane--with all her plaids and wrenches and duct-tape--was practically a girl lumberjack.

“What else do you like besides makeup and old movies and books?” he asked, groaning a little.

“Umm, I don’t know, coffee?” she said. “Pajamas and socks?”

“Socks?” he said incredulously.  

“Yup, fun socks,” she said. Her leg was extended next to his hip. She wiggled her toes and he laughed.

“I didn’t realize they made those for adults,” he said. Her socks from the night before had cookies and milk on them. She wore fun socks everyday. He grabbed her foot with his good arm and folded her leg onto his lap, rubbing his thumb over her sock patterns.

“Jane jokes that I would shop in the child’s section at Target if my boobs weren’t so freaking big. Hey, cut it out. That tickles,” she complained.

“You’re ticklish?” he said.

“Ahh, yes,” she said, resisting the urge to dig her nails into his back in revenge. “Stop!” She giggled.

“I’ll get you something as a thank you,” he said, letting go of her foot. She scooted it away defensively and he chuckled.

“Why? What are you thanking me for?” she said. He grinned.

“Because I would be spending a lot of money on massages without you. Even if my insurance would cover it, I have a fifty-buck copay. What do you want? Usually, I buy women that I’m dating lingerie, but you can’t wear that to work to show everybody what a good boyfriend I am,” he said cheerfully.

“Phhffft,” Darcy said. “Lingerie is uncomfortable. I like sock monkey pajamas.” Dear Lord, she didn’t want him trying to buy her lingerie.

“Yeah?” he said. “But you can’t wear that to work, either.”

“Ha! Shows what you know,” Darcy said. He really had the nicest back, she thought. Beautiful muscles. Interesting tattoos. In addition to the Thai tattoos on the backs of his forearms, he had other work on backs of his upper arms. Darcy was seriously tempted to lean against him, except that it would probably hurt him.

“Keep doing that,” he said, half-turning his head as she pressed under his shoulder blades. “Oh, God,” he murmured. “That’s so nice, Lewis.” After a few minutes, she stopped and shook her hands to stretch out her own muscles. He noticed. “Okay,” he said, “I’m cutting you off. No massage injuries for you.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. Should she leave now? She crawled from behind him. She’d taken her bra off while he slept--sleeping in underwire was a b--and it was next to her boots on the floor. She didn’t necessarily want him to see her bra. She had to buy a specialty size. Darcy would bet money that Brock Rumlow had no idea that bra sizes went all the way to 34H. He might try to wear it as a hat as a joke or something.

“Hey, you want breakfast?” he asked.

“Yes, but I should probably check on Jane,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. For a second, he looked at her intently. Darcy caught his expression and grinned expectantly. Did he...? Then he yawned. “Oh, morning breath. I’m gonna go brush my teeth. You might want to, too,” he said cheerfully.  He got up and left her sitting there, astounded. She’d really thought he was going to kiss her for a second. She shook her head. That was a terrible idea anyway. Her phone buzzed.

  


***

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Okay, where are you? I just woke up. I must have passed out.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Rumlow’s room. I slept here.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** I knew it! He was all weird at the bar. Did he get you drunk and take advantage?!?!?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No. Not at all. Nothing happened.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Really?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I would remember. Not unless two mai tais and a mini fridge can of prosecco magically hypnotized me into helping him out of his pants and I have no memory.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Literally.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** He has trouble getting out of them quickly with the one good arm, I think. We just watched John Mulaney specials and fell asleep. I didn’t even get to wriggle out of my bra until he was snoring. Before you ask, I pulled it through my shirt sleeve. No naked sexytimes.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** But did you give him massages?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Yeah.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I don’t see the big deal. We’re just friends.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Sometimes, you are such an innocent, Darce.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Oh, Friedbach grabbed him. He’s willing to file a report. I’m putting my shoes on. I’ll be right there.

 

“I’m out of here,” Darcy called to Rumlow. She’d put her shoes on and stashed her bra in her purse.

“Hey,” he said, leaning out of the bathroom, still shirtless. “Did you want to borrow my toothbrush, princess?”

“Princesses have their own toothbrushes,” she told him, putting her bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll bring you breakfast,” he said.

 

***  


**Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I need a favor.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Someone to tell you that it’s ridiculous to change your display name to that?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Very funny, Sharon. Darcy picked it.

 **Agent S. Carter:** I can literally feel your smug through the phone.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Is it smug when it’s factual?

 **Agent S. Carter:** [eyeroll gif]

 **Agent S. Carter:** What do you need help with?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Something for Darcy. I want it to be something she can show off at work.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Flowers? Chocolate?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Too generic. I want it to be something she actually likes, too, you know? Personal. Something she’d really want.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** She likes girly things. Makeup. And socks with stuff on them? Unicorns and stuff? I already got her lipgloss.  

 **Agent S. Carter:** Socks? You cannot buy her socks.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** No shit, Sharon.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Ughhhh, for God’s sake, you wouldn’t have this problem if you had relationships with women that last for more than a night.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I’m friends with you. And Hlll.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Yes, but you treat me and Maria just like the boys. You told Maria a dick joke last week.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** She thought it was funny!

 **Agent S. Carter:** You’re ridiculous. What else does Darcy like?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** She won’t tell me what else she likes. But it’s all very girly stuff. She wears perfume that smells like cupcakes. I don’t know what to get her.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Have you checked her Pinterest?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** ???

 **Agent S. Carter:** Sometimes, I can’t believe you survived HYDRA, honestly. It’s a social media site where you save things you like. People have themed boards. Recipes. Fashion. Decorating. Whatever. I’ll get you a link.

 **Agent S. Carter:** This is hers. [link]

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Thanks! I owe you.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Lots of women have Pinterest wedding boards. You should see if she wants a destination wedding on Asgard.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Did Cap teach you to troll or was Peggy like this, too?

 **Agent S. Carter:** Why do you want to buy Darcy more personal things? Wouldn’t flowers be enough to show off at work?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Uh, she does nice things for me?

 **Agent S. Carter:** What kinds of nice things?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** She’s been helping with my shoulder injury. Giving me massages and stuff.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Are you actually dating?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** No, no. We’re just friends. She’s a friend. Like Jack. Or you. Just different from everybody at SHIELD. None of the SHIELD girls like makeup, do they?

 **Agent S. Carter:** We wear makeup, Brock.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Really? I never notice it. She does this thing with eyeliner, it’s really neat to watch…

 **Agent S. Carter:** You’ve watched her get ready?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I told her she should work with the photostatic veil crew, she can do so much with makeup. The things she can do to her face, Sharon, you should see it.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Please tell me that you didn’t phrase it like that?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Yeah, why?

 **Agent S. Carter:** [Dana Scully facepalm gif]

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** What?

 **Agent S. Carter:** You might actually be worse than Steve.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Oh.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** Really?

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I’ve never had this problem before.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Because you don’t normally talk to women except at work. About work. And dick jokes.

 **Commander Devastatingly Handsome:** I talk to women after work.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Riiiiiight. Sex face isn’t actually talking, you know.

 

***

 

“What kind of massage was it, Darce?” Jane said, snickering, when Darcy went back to their room. Jane was all rumpled looking and had raccoon eyes. It looked like she’d woken up on the floor.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “How many times have you puked?” Darcy put her purse down and sighed. “Where are the other drunk Science! ladiess?”

“No puking,” Jane said proudly. “I’m a semi-pro at conferences now. They went back to their rooms. Tell me about the terrible, wicked, naughty things you did before your walk of shame?” Jane said. “Just how bad were you?”

“Not bad at all, not even a little,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” Jane said, looking mildly disappointed as Darcy went into the bathroom and started brushing her teeth and her tongue. Morning breath, after all. “Oh, well. I sort of caught Dr. Hookenlooper and Dr. Randall hooking up in that bathroom downstairs tonight,” Jane said.

“Mira and Rachel are together now?” Darcy said, leaning out of the bathroom.

“I guess? You never know,” Jane said. Darcy spit toothpaste into the sink and squeezed more Crest onto the brush.

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head and brushing again.

“I was hoping you at least cowgirl’d up with injured Rumlow, so I could have a fun story,” Jane mused out loud. Darcy spit toothpaste onto the mirror.

“Jane!” she said. “No Jane, bad Jane.”

“C’mon, you have to wonder what that would be like. Thor says he’s in great shape for a Midgardian and if Thor says it...what, Darce?” Jane said. Darcy was looking at herself in the mirror oddly.

“Jane,” she said.

“Oooooh. So, you did get to ride the ride?” Jane said, laughing.

“Nope,” Darcy said. “But the operator looks good without a shirt.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “That’s a bummer.”

“Uh-huh. Also, ask me anything you want to know about Thai and Burmese boxing.”

“Burmese boxing?” Jane said.

“He’s a fan,” she explained. “Apparently, you can use your head to hit your opponent in lethwei.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharon's Dana Scully gif: http://68.media.tumblr.com/3eabdd9d1dff4028fd8aeb068a3e1dac/tumblr_o5bgr9Y56s1u8szh4o1_500.gif


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody has a breakthrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Week 3

Blacksburg, VA

Mountain Regency Hotel

Conference Day/Night 3

 

Brock showed up after she’d had a shower. He’d brought breakfast, as promised. He’d found croissants and dark roast coffee. Jane had also showered and was taking an Asgardian hangover cure--she kept it for conferences--and drinking water. She wanted to go over some of her notes. Brock appeared to be concentrating on his phone, so Darcy quietly did her makeup.  “What’s he doing?” Jane mouthed across the room. Darcy shrugged.

“What about that? Is that lipstick?” Brock asked suddenly pointing to a tube of plum glitter liquid.

“Eyeliner,” Darcy said, hoping he hadn’t caught she and Jane’s mimed convo. “Did you want me to wear that one?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said casually. Behind him, Jane rolled her eyes. Darcy stuck out her tongue at Jane and then Brock looked up. “What?” he said.

“Jane and I are flashing gang signs?” Darcy said. He chuckled, then put his phone away to watch her apply eyeliner.

 

They went downstairs to the lobby. Darcy was concentrating on schlepping copies of Jane’s book for her signing after her panel for today. Jane tended to get mobbed at these signing things now. Darcy had extra copies in a rolling suitcase; the university was supposed to have enough, but Darcy had been vexed by a mis-order before (booo, East Rockford State). “Let me carry that,” Brock said.

“No, it’s okay,” Darcy said. “It’s a rolling suitcase. I don’t want you to hurt your shoulder.”

“My shoulder will be fine,” he groused.

“You look a little stiff to me,” she said, putting on her sunglasses. They had rhinestones along the edge.

“Those are, uh, nice,” Brock said. “Fun.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said. “They’re Betsey Johnson.” Darcy loved Betsey Johnson. She wanted to be like Betsey when she got older, even if she couldn’t ever do a cartwheel.

“Betsey Johnson. Who is she?” Brock said.

“She’s a clothing designer. She makes all kinds of cute stuff--sunglasses, handbags, costume  jewelry, like my sunglasses and my wallet.” She had a cute little coffee wallet.

“You like fun things, right?” he asked, as they got on the shuttle bus.

“I guess?” Darcy said. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said seriously. In front of them, Jane started laughing loudly. She actually held her stomach, she was laughing so hard. People looked at her.

“What is it?” Darcy said.

“A joke. A really funny joke,” Jane said, looking over her shoulder when she’d gotten control of herself.

“I wanna hear the joke,” Darcy said.

“It was from Sharon,” Jane said. “I’m not sure you’d like it, Darce.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, feeling a little FOMO. Next to her Brock had tensed. “What’s wrong?” Darcy asked him.

“Nothing,” he said. But she noticed he was being funny about her seeing his phone. With a pang, Darcy wondered if he was talking to a woman.

“I can move, if you want privacy for that conversation?” she asked.

“What?” he said.

“You’re talking to a girlfriend?” she said.

“No,” he said blankly.

“Oh,” she said. “I assumed--”

“I’m shopping for you,” he said, grinning slowly. “Foster and Sharon are ragging me because I asked Carter for gift advice.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “What are you--”

“Nope,” Brock said. “Don’t even ask.” She was going to pester him some more when they got off the bus, but as they stepped onto the sidewalk, there was a roll of thunder and a distant lightning crack.

“Thor is here,” Jane said happily.  There was a swirling distortion in the sky. They watched as he landed on the nearby by quad with Mew-Mew and Jane jogged out to meet him.

“Holy shit,” a nearby college student said.

“It’s Hammertime!” the college kid next to him said. MC Hammer had briefly recharted when he convinced Thor to do a music video with him. Mew-Mew had had fun, Darcy was pretty sure, but Jane had complained when Thor wore his gratis hammer pants around the lab in Pennsylvania. They left glitter everywhere and it got in her machines and doohickeys. The whole panel and book signing was slightly more bonkers than usual, mostly because everyone wanted to be in Thor-proximity. Jane sold out of signed books and Thor was actually signing university t-shirts and people’s textbooks, in addition to pieces of paper. By the end of the day, Darcy was exhausted.

 

***

 

“Please don’t buy me underwear,” Darcy said to Brock later that night. They were in bed together. With Thor back and noisily reuniting with Jane, Brock had moved her into his room. She hadn’t even had to ask. Brock laughed in response to her declaration.

“Why not?” he asked, refilling her plastic cup of champagne. Someone from the faculty had given Jane a bottle of cava and they’d swiped it. Brock had ordered them pizza, too.

“I’d either have to tell you my actual size or get a receipt from you whenever the thing you bought me was too small,” she said morosely. “I’ve been through this.”

“What’s wrong with telling me your actual size?” he asked.

“Because men think that a woman who is bigger than a size 8 or weighs over a hundred and fifteen pounds is, like, a manatee,” she said. “Or She-Hulk.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “When have I ever, ever said anything negative about your body? Or any woman’s body, really?”

“You did imply I needed to buy peroxide and bleach my hair,” she said.

“Ok, I’ll give you that one, but I thought I was purely appreciative of everything else,” he said, raking her body with his eyes.

“Are you getting influenced by Thor being here, sexing up Jane across the hall?” Darcy asked.

“What?” he said.

“He’s a fertility god, too. Sorta,” she explained. “That’s why Jane warned you about drinking any stuff he gives you in DC.”

“Huh,” Brock said. “He did give me this stuff, it looked like wine, but right after I drank it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered intensely.

“Thinking about me how?” Darcy said.

“You wanna know? You really wanna know?” he said leaning in close to her ear.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“I can’t stop think about putting my good Italian nose between your legs, princess,” he said hotly. He stared into her eyes for a beat, then burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you fell for that,” he said, shaking with laughter.

“You haven’t seen that Asgardian stuff!” Darcy said, able to breathe normally again. Her heart had skipped a beat. “It’s very intense,” she insisted.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to turn into a mad rapist under the influence of Thor’s love potion. You’re perfectly safe sleeping here tonight.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Give me another pizza slice?”

“Here,” he said, laughing. He was actually shaking with laughter again.

“Why is that funny?” Darcy said.

“The look on your face,” he said. “You really believed that for a minute.”  He got up.

 

“Where are you going?” Darcy asked, when he went to the hotel room’s door.

“I need to make a call,” he said, stepping out into the hallway.

“Oh,” Darcy said. While he was gone, she stole the remote and found a romcom on television. Ha, she thought. He’d probably hate that one. That would show him for being all rude. Again. He came back in a few minutes later.

“Great, _Moonstruck_ ,” he said, sounding delighted.

“You recognize this movie?” she said.

“I’m Italian, this is my movie,” he said.

“Please, you’re not Ronny, you’re Frasier’s dad the sad professor,” Darcy told him.

“You’re mixing your pop culture metaphors, princess,” he said, climbing into bed again. “Clearly, you’re tired. Give me your smelly, cold feet.”

“What?” Darcy said. How did he know about her weirdly cold, yet sweaty feet?

“You’re going to drink Jane’s stolen bubbly and I’m going to rub your feet,” he said.

“What about your arm?” she said.

“I’ll keep the sling on, you’ll just have to be flexible,” he teased. He’d put several cushions behind him (it was the shoulder thing), so he was farther down the bed than she was. He pulled her leg gently into her lap.

“Let me get situated,” she said, trying to angle her body sideways so she didn’t feel like she was indecently posed.

“Get situated?” Brock said teasingly.

“Right, because that’s the weird part of this whole moment,” Darcy said.

“Jane is getting in your head,” he told her. “Our friendship is perfectly normal.”

“You rub Jack’s feet?” Darcy asked.

“God, no, he has terrible toenails. Looks like he could climb trees. I think he’s part koala,” he said. Darcy giggled. Then he tickled her feet and she shrieked.

“Stopppppp,” she cried out.

“Are you that sensitive?” Brock asked.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, trying to pull her foot away. It made her panic slightly.

“Calm down,” he said.

“In the history of the world, when has saying that ever worked?” Darcy asked.

“Mmm,” he said thoughtfully. “So sensitive to touch.”

“What?” she said. He was studying her foot like it was a textbook. “What?” Darcy repeated.

“Anyone ever touch your feet when you were fooling around?” he asked curiously.

“No, no, noooooooooo,” Darcy said in horror.

 

***

Week 3

Blacksburg, VA

Mountain Regency Hotel

Conference Day/Night 4

 

All of day four was a blur. Jane was only supposed to watch a few of her friends on panels, but the university was buzzing because of Thor’s presence. Everywhere she went was packed. Thor went with her happily, shaking hands, signing autographs, and declaring that Jane was even more intelligent than she was beautiful. Jane blushed. Darcy always found it sweet that the normally work-obsessed and driven Jane was so easily smitten with Thor. It was the most cute thing.

They got invited to a cocktail party at the chancellor’s mansion. Darcy and Brock snuck off to a corner. Darcy drank some of the free blush wine and snagged them canapés. She could tell Brock was tense from the onslaught of people. Now they they were rooming together, she’d realized he wasn’t taking anything for his shoulder. He rubbed his arm reflexively and she decided to say something. “Why don’t you have prescription for that?” she asked.

“I do, I just don’t like taking drugs,” he said. “I’ll take something tonight.”  Great, Darcy thought. This explained why he’d been tired and slightly crabby all day. He was hurting. At least he was drinking water, she thought.

“What about prescription strength Tylenol or something?” she asked. He shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. “I’ll be right back,” she said. She went to the bathroom in the mansion--fancy Art Deco-inspired wallpaper, very nice, Darcy noted--and called the number she had for SHIELD’s on-call physician.

“Yeah?” a clipped male voice said.

“Hello, this is Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster’s assistant--,” she said.

“What do you need?” the man interrupted.

“Brock Rumlow is our security detail and he’s refusing to take pain meds for his shoulder. Can you call him in some prescription Tylenol or something else mild I can convince him to actually take?” she asked.

“He’s stubborn as hell,” the man said. “Stupid and stubborn. Where do you want me to call it in?” Darcy gave him the address for a Walgreens just off campus. It was open 24 hours.

 

“I need to go to Walgreens on the way back,” she told Brock.

“Oh,” he said. “Do you need something now?”

“No, it’ll take thirty minutes to fill them,” she said.

“Oh,” he said.

 

When they finally got Thor away from the university’s highest-ranking staff--the vice chancellor and the dean of student affairs had both tried to lift Mew-Mew unsuccessfully--it was well after midnight. Brock drove her to Walgreens. “I’ll go in with you,” Brock said, looking dubiously at Jane and Thor making out in the backseat. “I assume they’re safe together.”

“Safe from everything but sex injuries,” Darcy cracked. He chuckled. “Besides, I need you to go in anyway,” she said.

“Why?” he said.

“I got the on-call physician for field work to call you in something,” Darcy said, as they crossed the parking lot. “Something mild for your pain.” He looked at her.

“Dr. Anderson called you in something for me?” he said.

“I don’t know his name, he was just hella abrupt and borderline rude, so you’re taking it,” she said.

“That’s Anderson,” Brock said.

“He said you were stubborn and stupid,” Darcy said. Brock shrugged.

 

While he picked up his new meds, she goofed around the holiday gifts stuff up front. She was spritzing on a sample of body mist--Kenneth Cole’s White--when he came up behind her and made her jump. “I like that--sorry, did I scare you?” he said.

“You’re too quiet,” she told him.

“Professional habit. What is that?” he asked.

“Body mist?” she said.

“So, it’s like perfume?” he said, looking confused.

“This cannot be new to you?” she said. “It’s like perfume, but lighter. Remember ‘Calgon Take Me Away’ or whatever?”

“Huh. Try this one,” he said, picking out a brightly colored one that had a sleeve of tropical flowers. One of the Sofia Vergara perfumes, Tempting Paradise. She sprayed it on her other wrist and offered it to him.

“What do you think?” she said. She liked it. It reminded her of pineapples and fruit cocktail, but more candy-like.

“I like that one, you should get it,” he said. When she demurred that she didn’t really need it, even if it was nice, he insisted and offered to pay for it himself.

“No, I can afford it. It’s less than ten bucks. Just don’t tell Jane,” she said, as she paid for it herself.

“Why?” he said.

“She’ll say I’ve given you another thing,” Darcy said. “Also, we need to get you some food, I don’t think you should take Tylenol on an empty stomach.”

 

She sent him and Thor into a fast food place that was open late. “What did you get?” Jane asked, looking at her pharmacy bag curiously.

“Oh, we refilled his prescription and I bought myself one of the holiday gift things. Fragrance mist,” Darcy said, passing it to Jane to smell.

“That’s nice. Does Brock like it?” Jane teased.

“Why should that matter? He’s not actually my boyfriend, Jane,” Darcy said.

 

***

Week 3

Blacksburg, VA

Mountain Regency Hotel

Conference Day/Night 5

 

The last conference day was a short day. With Thor there, everyone wanted Jane to stay longer, but she and Thor had decided they’d go back to DC via Mjolnir at noon. That left Brock and Darcy to drive back with all the luggage. “You’re okay with that, right?” Brock asked her, as they were getting the luggage into the trunk.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I could always make the drive myself and Thor could come back for you, if you don’t want to spend four hours in a car,” he said.

“No, I don’t mind,” Darcy said. Was he sick of her, she wondered? “Unless you just can’t stand the sight of me?” she joked.

“No,” he said, looking at her blankly. Or she thought it was blankly. Difficult to tell with sunglasses.

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“Actually,” he said, a few minutes later, “I was thinking that we could have dinner together, just you and me, in DC? They’ll be, uh, busy…”

“Celebrating togetherness?” Darcy said, grinning at Thor and Jane across the parking lot. Thor was signing autographs with Jane clinging to his back.

“Yeah,” he said. “Anyway, we haven’t been able to do that lately.”

“We ate dinner together practically every night this week,” Darcy said.

“Eating pizza in your pajamas doesn’t count,” Brock said.

“It doesn’t?” Darcy said. “That’s like, half my dates, right there.” He shook his head.

 

***

 

When they got back to DC that afternoon, he took her to his apartment. He wanted to shower and change. She was, frankly, curious about where he lived and stuff, anyway. It was very clean and neat, but almost totally without personality. The one personal thing Darcy noticed at first glance was a poster for _The Birds_ as you walked in _._ “That’s really cool,” Darcy said. It was an image of Tippi Hedren’s character on the pier. Her shadow was in the shape of a bird.

“Thanks,” he said. “Fal--my sister, Fallon---got that for me. She gets me old movie posters because she’s says I’m awful to buy for. Did you want to shower or change before dinner or anything?” he asked. “Give you first dibs on hot water?”

“Sure,” Darcy said. He probably didn’t mean to imply that she looked terrible or anything, right? For sure he didn’t; he was really absurdly clean. His guest bathroom was actually cleaner than the hotel’s.

 

He’d made her coffee when she got out of the shower in his guest room and padded out to the living room in a bathrobe and her bendy rollers. “Oh, thanks,” she said. “That’s nice of you.”

“I’ve got us a reservation at Filomena,” he said. “You’ll like Filomena. They do a good dessert.”

“How fancy is Filomena’s?” she asked, thinking of the few unworn outfits in her suitcase. He’d brought it up for her. He did a so-so gesture with his hand.

“Not too bad,” he said. “Can I watch you do your makeup again?”

“Sure,” she said. “Did you want to pick that out, too?”

“You’re messing with me, but yeah,” he said. “This one?” He pointed to one of her brightly-colored makeup palettes. It was tropical themed: corals, peaches, deep jungle greens.

“I’m sensing a tropical thing,” she told him. “Between this and your favorite fragrance mist.”

“I do like warm weather,” he said casually, sipping his coffee.

 

He watched her get ready at his kitchen island, then she took her suitcase into the bedroom to to dry her hair and dress while he showered. It was amazing that he could get ready so fast, she thought. She dried her hair and let the rollers cool as she looked at the clothes she hadn’t worn yet. There was one semi-fancy dress. Would that be weird to wear out with Brock, she wondered? If she dressed up? Probably not. They were in DC, so anyone who saw them together would assume it was a date. She was totally wearing her comfy boots and tights, not date shoes, though. Fake dating could have benefits. Darcy got dressed and put on her boots, then spritzed on her new fragrance mist. She looked okay, she thought, as she wiggled in her dress. It was slightly clingy. She’d had Tessa--her friend who made retro clothes--make it as a kind of fun project. It was an 1980s-style wrap dress with shoulder pads, structure, ruched waist detailing, the whole deal. Darcy had sent Tessa pictures of her mom wearing a similar dress when she was a kid. She’d been intending to wear it to a campus event as a joke. People on college campuses would ask you about stuff like that in a friendly way and it was good way to publicize Tessa’s business.

 

Darcy was looking at all the posters in Brock’s living room-- _The Maltese Falcon, Vertigo, The Big Sleep_ \--when he emerged from his bedroom in a suit. He had his sling on and his jacket over this other arm. “Darcy can you help me with my damn shirt cuffs---” he began, then stopped and stared at her. “You look great,” he said. “You left your hair all big.”

“I thought it fit the dress,” she said, walking over and helping him with his shirt. She hadn’t brushed her roller set out or smoothed it down any. It was a little 1989, but fun. "I really like  _The Big Sleep_ ," she told him.

 

***

 

The outside of Filomena’s had a really cool old-fashioned awning and lights. Normally, that alone would have thrilled Darcy, but as they got close to the glass front doors, she realized there were decorations, too. “Oh my God,” she said. “They decorate for Halloween at Filomena’s?” There was giant spider on the awning and witches in the windows.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I thought you’d like it. It’s a fun place and the food is good. They do multiple holidays. You should see the Christmas decorations.”

“I want to,” she said, as they were led to a table and she gawked at all the cool, kitschy stuff. Witches, bats, skulls.

“They put a tree in the middle of the restaurant in December,” he said.

“That is so awesome,” she said. He laughed.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said, smiling. She smiled back at him. “Would you like wine? I’m not drinking, but they have a nice wine list?”

“You better not be drinking on your meds,” she fussed.

“I’m a grown man,” he told her wryly. “And I can take care of myself, unlike an astrophysicist we know.”

“Tell that to the tree,” Darcy said. “But yeah, I wouldn’t mind a drink, if you’re driving?”

“Sure,” he said. “You like whites, right?”

“Yeah, I like sweet things,” she admitted. He grinned.

“Girly wine,” he teased. “But you should try Italian Chardonnays, they’re not as oaky as American ones. Or maybe a Soave…” he said out loud.

“Order for me,” she told him, as the waiter arrived.

“You want me to order your wine?” he said.

“And dinner,” she said. “Pick a pasta for me? Everything looks good--the ravioli, the seafood, everything. ”

“Really?” he said.

“We could split something, if you want? Surprise me. I’m going to the ladies room.”

“You’re sure?” he said.

“I trust you. I like the restaurant a lot and it’ll be fun to be surprised,” she told him, grinning. She got up and went to the bathroom.

 

On her way back, she wandered around looking at the Halloween decorations and took a few pictures with her phone. It was a really cool place. When she walked back to their table, she realized someone was talking to Brock. Darcy could recognize that waist-to-shoulder ratio anywhere. “Hey, Steve,” she said, coming over to her seat.

“Darcy?” Steve said, sounding surprised. “You look really nice. Really nice.” He gave her an openly admiring look. Of course Steve would like this dress, Darcy thought. It had shoulder pads. That was very his day.

“Thanks,” she said, accepting his easy hug before she sat back down.

“A few of us are over there, I saw Rumlow and thought he’d gotten lost,” Steve said cheerfully. “This is a neat place.”

“Yeah, I took pictures,” Darcy said.

“You’re welcome to come and sit with us if you like?” Steve said, smiling.

“Yeah, that--” Brock began, but Darcy cut him off.

“Steve,” she said, “we’re on a date.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.” He looked genuinely embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Darcy said.

“I’ll stop crashing your date,” Steve said.

“Say hi to everyone for us though,” Darcy told him.

 

“We could go over there, if you want to? I wouldn’t mind,” Brock said, once he was back at his table.

“Nope,” Darcy said. “So, what did you order?”

“You got a chardonnay and garlic bread. We’re splitting the shrimp cannelloni. It’s like a seafood lasagna, except instead of pasta sheets, they use, uh, cylinders of handmade pasta. Sound good?” he asked.

“Yeah, really good,” she told him.

“You know,” he told her, “Clint Eastwood loves this place.”

“Oh, yeah? I just watched _The Dead Pool_ the other night,” Darcy said.

“You like Dirty Harry movies?” he said.

“What? I can’t like something not girly?” she teased.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said jokingly.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. She’d surprised herself, too. The moment that she’d told Steve they were on a date, she’d realized with a pang that she actually wished it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filomena's is a real DC restaurant that decorates for Halloween, Christmas, the works. I so want to go now! How cool are these Halloween decorations? http://filomena.com/index.php/2014-07-04-04-41-23/halloween
> 
> I really want Brock's poster for The Birds, too: https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/laurent-durieux-birds-poster-print-1724376472
> 
> And Darcy's dress looks something like this in my head: https://www.etsy.com/listing/646640243/floral-wrap-dress-vintage-80s-dress-suit?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=tropical%20wrap%20dress&ref=sc_gallery-1-9&plkey=84a435d5be474e3619666ae92714872dc25f8f54:646640243
> 
> And !!!!!SPOILER!!!!!
> 
> LOOOOOOOOOOOOOK who is going to be in a flashback in the next Avengers film!!!!!!!! (loud, high-pitched dolphin noise)  
> http://collider.com/avengers-4-flashbacks-crossbones/#images


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Darcy likes Pink Martini, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Week 3

Washington, DC

Filomena’s

Friday Night

 

“Hey, hey, let me help you,” Darcy fussed at Brock, as they were splitting dinner. He was having trouble cutting his cannelloni.

“This is infantilizing,” he groused.

“Watch your arm,” she said, getting up and sliding her chair next to his. She sat very close, so their legs touched and she was practically in his lap. Thankfully, he’d sat so his injured arm was on the inside, so there was no risk of accidentally hurting him.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he said in a whisper, as she cut up his cannelloni for him.

“People will just think I want to sit next to you because you’re so good-looking,” she said, smiling at him. “Look around, Brock.” She kept her eyes on his face as he looked around the restaurant and realized that they were inconspicuous.

“Oh,” he said.

“See?” she said. Darcy was on her second--or was it her third?--glass of chardonnay. That was her only explanation for what she did next: she reached over and rubbed the top of his thigh gently.

“Thanks,” he said. “You should eat more of this.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said.

“I think our friendship is making me fat. I ate an entire 5th Avenue by myself the other day,” he said jokingly.

“Oh, so it’s okay for me to gain weight?” she snarked back.

“It goes in better places for you. I’d just end up with a beer belly like my Uncle Jimmy,” he said.

“Why don’t we box it up for Thor?” Darcy said. She’d already decided she was paying for dinner. This place was expensive, but she could swing it. He shouldn’t pay for everything.

“Good idea,” he said. He stopped the waiter the next time he circled by and the waiter took the plate to box it up for them. “Did you want dessert? You gotta have dessert here,” Brock told her while the waiter was still there.

“Oh, ummmm,” Darcy said.

“What if I bring you a menu?” the waiter said.

“Perfect,” Brock said. When the waiter returned with the box and a menu, they debated desserts.

“There’s too much to choose from!” Darcy said cheerfully.

“She gets very indecisive about her high sugar items,” Brock said dryly. “The hazelnut one?”

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” Brock said, standing up.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She stopped the waiter from leaving and waited ‘til Brock was out of earshot. “Can you get us both coffees and put the bill on this card?” She handed him her credit card. She wasn’t letting Brock pay.

 

The hazelnut daquoise was very, very good. “I think I want to marry this cake,” Darcy told him. He was sipping his coffee. Brock had let her eat most of the cake. He chuckled.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

“No need,” she said, “I paid already.”

“What?” he said.

“I gave the waiter my card, it’s taken care of,” she said.

“I asked you to dinner, I should pay,” he said.

“You also let me crash in your hotel room, bought me pizza, made grad students get me snacks…” she said, gesturing airily.

“This place is expensive,” he said stubbornly.

“No biggie, Jane pays me now,” Darcy said. “Or Fury does.” He sighed and looked put out.

“I wanted to pay,” he said.

“Is this a gender thing?” Darcy asked.

“The man should pay when he asks a woman to dinner,” he said.

“I don’t care about that stuff,” she said.

“No, of course you don’t, the massage therapist probably borrowed money from you and never paid you back and shit, right?” he said. Darcy shrugged.

“Maybe,” Darcy admitted. “But really, we’re probably even for hotel room money if I pay tonight, right?” She couldn’t do the math in her head after several glasses of wine.

“Lewis,” he said suddenly, his eyes over her shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Darcy said.

“Play along,” Brock said. Then he leaned over and kissed her. He was kissing her mouth--gently sucking at her bottom lip---when she opened her eyes and realized that Steve, Cameron Klein, and several other SHIELD employees were leaving the restaurant.

“Oh,” Darcy said when he pulled away. She felt a little weak in the knees. She really should make all future boyfriends eat Nutella before they kissed her. Also, she should make them be Brock Rumlow. “I didn’t realize Steve was here with so many other people,” she said, trying to cover for her flusteredness.

“It’ll be all over work on Monday,” he said. He scooped up some of the hazelnut cake with his fork and ate it.

 ***

 

He dropped her off at her apartment with her luggage, their leftovers for Thor, and a slice of cheesecake--that he insisted on paying for--for Darcy to give to Jane. “Jane will love you,” Darcy told him.

“Make her share with you,” Brock said.

“Hold on,” she said, sitting the Filomena’s bag on her suitcase. “Let me get your cuffs for you, so you won’t have trouble at home,” Darcy told him. She unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up for him an inch or two. He grinned slowly at her.

“Are you mothering me, Lewis?” he said.

“You’re one of my people now, I’ll make you eat and sleep and take Tylenol,” she said. “I had fun tonight.” She didn’t know how to make eye contact with him without all her crazy emotions, like pouring out of her eyeballs or something. She’d practically wanted to crawl in his lap at Filomena’s after that kiss.

“Take care of yourself,” he said cheerfully. “Monday is going to be crazy. I’ll see you at work, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, a little sad that he didn’t want to see a movie with her or something. Or see her naked. Whatever. She was flexible.

”Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight,” she said.

 

Jane was waiting up for her. “Janey, Brock sent you cheesecake and leftovers for Thor,” Darcy said.

“Uh huh,” Jane said. “Was that before or after he was making out with you in a restaurant?” Jane said.

“It was just pretend. Wait, how did you know?” Darcy said, surprised.

“Cameron texted Sharon, who texted me. Pretend, huh?” Jane said, snickering.

“Yeah,” Darcy said glumly.

“What’s wrong?” Jane said.

“I think I might like him,” Darcy admitted.

“Really?” Jane said sarcastically. “Who could have guessed, given that you’ve been sharing a bed and food and spending 24/7 together and he watches you get ready and stuff.”

“Jane, don’t joke, I was one chardonnay from throwing myself at him outside that door,” Darcy said. “But I don’t think he feels the same, you know?”

“Darce, that’s literally not possible. You’re smart and gorgeous and he’s fascinated by you,” Jane said.

“I don’t think he is,” Darcy said. He might just be fascinated by makeup or whatever.

 

***

Still Week 3

1212 G St., Washington, DC

Macy’s

Saturday

 

“Why am I here?” Sharon Carter said. “I hate shopping on Saturdays.” Brock had asked her to meet him at Macy’s.

“I know. I hate malls, but I need your help,” he said. “I’ve got three bags picked out.”

“You’re buying her a bag?” Sharon said. “Like a reusable shopping bag?”

“No, no, a ladies purse or whatever,” he said, taking her over to a section near the shoes. He’d already talked to two salespeople. The woman behind the counter smiled at Sharon.

“Oh,” Sharon said, “a handbag?”

“He’s been stressing over which one you’ll like,” the saleswoman said. Her name tag read Karen.

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Sharon said. “It’s for a co-worker who he is not interested in romantically at all.” She grinned at Brock, then looked at the handbags sitting on the laminate counter. They were small, shiny bags.

“Okay,” Brock said, like he was running an operations report. “She likes this Betsey Johnson chick, so I picked out three options that I think she’ll like. Option one is the Pumpkin Spice one,” he said, holding up a bag in the shape of an iced latte. “She likes pumpkin spice. I could put coffee inside it or something? A Starbucks card?” Sharon laughed.

“You’re taking this seriously,” she said. “Why do you need to put something in it?”

“Because she paid for dinner last night. Snuck the waiter her card and paid when I wanted to pay for everything. Filomena’s is expensive. It was $200,” he said.

“Why couldn’t you split the bill?” Sharon said. He shook his head and looked at Sharon.

“I asked her, I pay,” he said stubbornly. He was looking at the next bag.

“Because you’re the man, but she’s just your platonic friend?” Sharon said archly. She picked up the third bag, a silver square. “What is this?”

“It’s a toaster,” he said, if she was particularly dim.

“Oh,” Sharon said. “It’s kind of plain compared to the others.”

“It has a Pop-Tart thing,” he said, fishing it out of the bag. “A wallet. She likes Pop-Tarts. That’s why I picked that one.”

“Hmmm,” Sharon said. She looked at the other bag. “Macaroni and cheese?” She laughed. “They have purses in the shape of that?” She was incredulous.

“She and Jane lived off that stuff when they were broke, she told me. She still likes it, though,” Brock told Sharon.

“What, are you going to put Kraft boxes in that one?” Sharon asked.

“No,” he said, sounding glum. “I don’t know what to put in that one.”

“What else does she like?” Karen the saleswoman asked.

“Music, makeup, old movies, perfume, books, chocolate, sunglasses….” Brock said. Sharon burst out laughing. Brock looked at her. “What?” he said defensively. There was nothing wrong with anything Darcy liked, he thought.

“I just had this mental image of you gluing macaroni to a pair of sunglasses,” Sharon said.

“Are you here to help me or not?” Brock asked her.

“Does she like jewelry?” Karen asked hopefully.

“She doesn’t wear much jewelry, just hats and scarves,” Brock said.

“Oh,” Karen said, clearly disappointed.

“Maybe I should get all of these…” he mused.

“All three of them?” Sharon said.

“I could give her the pumpkin one now, one for Christmas,” he said. “You’re right about the toaster, though. It’s kind of plain, compared to the other two.” He shifted that one aside. “Just what do I put in this one?” he said, holding the mac ‘n cheese purse.

“Candy? Don’t you see movies together? You could put those movie theater boxes in it?” Sharon suggested. It was difficult not to laugh at him. He had the same focused look he got when he gave briefings after missions or ran training circuits in SHIELD’s gym. Sharon looked at the saleswoman and grinned. “He’s in love,” she mouthed. Karen smiled back. When Sharon caught Brock looking at her, she tried to cover. “You could put makeup in it?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Or concert tickets?” Sharon offered. “What about a favorite band? Lots of holiday concerts happening in the next few months.”

“Hmmm,” he thought. “That’s a good idea.”

“Let’s look around?” Sharon suggested.

“Will you watch these for me?” Brock asked the saleswoman seriously. “Or can I carry them around?” Sharon had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I’ll get you a shopping cart,” she told him. They kept them by the door. When she got near the automatic doors, Sharon Carter leaned against the wall and shook with laughter.

 

***

 

 **Agent S. Carter:** You’ll never guess where I am?

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Where?

 **Agent S. Carter:** At a Macy’s. With Brock.

 **Agent S. Carter:** He’s shopping for Darcy.

 **Agent S. Carter:** He’s buying her Betsey Johnson handbags. He wants to surprise her with something she’ll like.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Awwwww. She loves Betsey Johnson’s stuff.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Can you text me some bands she likes?

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Absolutely. Pink Martini, She  & Him, and Lana del Rey are her favorites right now.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Okay. I’ll tell him.

 

***

 

“Jane is going to veto stuff for us,” Sharon said, when she found Brock with the cart. She’d had to go to the bathroom and clean up her mascara. She’d laughed so hard she cried.

“You told Jane?! What if she tells Darcy?” Brock said, alarmed. He wandered upstairs, but was realizing it was all housewares and clothes.

“She won’t tell, she knows you want this to be special...for absolutely no reason,” Sharon said sarcastically.

“Don’t mock me or I’ll call your Great Uncle, Captain America,” Brock said.

“Oh, Steve would love that! Let’s call him,” Sharon said.

“Carter--” Brock began. She was already dialing.

“Steve, can you meet me and Rumlow at Macy’s on G Street?” Sharon asked brightly into her cell. Brock groaned.

“C’mon,” Brock said. “I want to look at the makeup counters downstairs.”

“Hey,” Sharon said, once she’d hung up, “you know, people register for weddings here. Look at all those pretty Kitchenaid mixers.” They were lined up in a row of bright colors.

“She would probably like that...she makes cookies for Thor sometimes,” he said. “But how would I pick a color? Can you ask Jane?”

 

***

 

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** What? What do you mean, her favorite Kitchenaid color?

 **Agent S. Carter:** It’s my fault. I made a joke about registering for their wedding and he got distracted by how bright the mixers are. I think he just likes shiny, bright things, like a bird.  Would she like a pink Kitchenaid or a green one?

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Darce does do her makeup shiny a lot.

 

***

 

“Hey, Darce, do you want some of this cheesecake?” Jane asked, opening Darcy’s bedroom door. “Or are you spending all day in bed?”

“I’m having a Bed Day,” Darcy said. She’d picked it up from one of her favorite lifestyle bloggers, Kimberly Wilson, aka Tranquility du Jour, who took her books, tea, and stuff to bed one day a month to recharge. Darcy’s batteries felt low. Jane came and sat on the edge of Darcy’s bed, handing her a fork.

“Have some cheesecake,” she said. “It’ll cheer you up. You really shouldn’t be down about Rumlow. He’s crazy about you.” Darcy scrunched up her face.

“He doesn’t want to see me all weekend, that doesn’t exactly scream smitten,” Darcy said. She looked up at Jane. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I have an idea--if we bought a Kitchenaid like we’ve talked about for Christmas, what color would you want?”

“Oh em gee, I forgot we could do that now that we’re not living out of boxes,” Darcy said. “Let me look at the website again.”

“Good, tell me your favorite color when you’ve looked,” Jane said.

“I know this is an blatant attempt to cheer me up, but I’m okay with it,” Darcy said.

 

***

 

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** She’s looking at the Kitchenaid website and leaning towards the Watermelon or that Aqua blue that looks like Tiffany blue.

 **Agent S. Carter:** He’s vetoed the mixers.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** They are expensive.

 **Agent S. Carter:** It’s not the money. He thinks they’re too heavy.

 **Agent S. Carter:** He’s worried she’ll drop it on her foot and break her toes.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Awwwwwwwww.

 **Agent S. Carter:** It’s SO weird seeing him like this.

 **HRH Jane, Queen of Science! And Asgard:** Thor and I will get her one for Christmas anyway. Thor can be in charge of moving the base.

 

***

 

“I never knew there were so many kinds of lipstick,” Steve said, in an awestruck voice. They were leaning against the MAC counter.

“Yeah,” Brock said, assuming an air of authority. “There are a lot of lipsticks, Cap.”

“What about this one?” Steve said, pointing to the brightest red. Peggy had worn lipstick like that, he remembered. He knew because the other Howling Commandos had ragged him when it clung to his face. Bucky had started calling him “Scarlet Steve.” Bucky, Steve thought, would doubtless be better at this than he was. Maybe Steve could call him in Wakanda? Was his phone connection secure enough? They’d circled the handbags, the perfumes, the scarves, and the costume jewelry until Steve was practically dizzy. A bored Sharon had the cart; he thought she was trying on leather jackets in the other department.

“Eh,” Rumlow said. “I know she likes this MACs stuff, but I want the packaging to be pretty, too.”

“MAC,” the salesperson said. She sounded a little offended. “It’s just MAC.”

“MAC,” Steve repeated, nodding.

“Let’s look over here,” Rumlow said, going off in that focused manner than reminded Steve of when he hunted down fugitives or something.

 

“Were they really kissing in Filomena’s?” Sharon asked quietly, appearing at Steve’s elbow.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said. “They looked real, uh, happy.”

“Hmm,” Sharon said. She was ninety-nine percent sure that Brock Rumlow had never been in love before.

“To tell you the truth, I kinda envy him,” Steve admitted quietly. “She looked swell last night. He’s lucky.”

“If this thing with her and Rumlow fizzles out, I could always set you up…?” Sharon offered.

“Now, Shar, don’t say that. It’s not nice,” Steve said gently. He treated her just like the kids he’d never had with Peggy, Sharon thought. She repressed a sigh; she’d long since gotten over her own little crush on Steve, although it had taken some chats with her SHIELD therapist. Couldn’t her Aunt Peggy’s lost first love have come out of the ice with those Dum-Dum Dugan sideburns or a little paunch or something? It was really unfair that her most adorable and genuinely kindest colleague was totally off-limits.

“He might mess up, he did screw up pretty big when they met,” Sharon said. “Called her ditzy, said she should bleach her hair because she spilled coffee on him.” Steve often missed office gossip, unless you told him outright.

“What?” he said, horrified. “That’s worse than Cameron. I gave Cameron a talking to, by the way. A gentleman doesn’t hide from a lady. I understand if he wanted to let her down easy, but that was mean. And bad manners.”

“Uh-huh,” Sharon said. She’d heard from Cameron after his first encounter with Captain America’s Disappointed Face.

“That’s why he’s trying so hard, huh?” Steve said, as Rumlow returned to them. “Did you actually call her ditzy?” Steve said, in full disapproving mode. Brock heaved a sigh.

“Yes,” he said glumly.

“What possessed you to do that?” Steve said, shifting slightly into troll mode. Sharon recognized the twinkle in his eyes. “Darcy’s very bright.”

“I’m a fu--freaking moron, Cap,” Brock said. “Sharon, come tell me what you think of these Christmas makeup palettes? Then we can run them by Foster?”

“Sure,” Sharon said, exchanging glances with Steve.

“You did apologize to her, right? Real well?” Steve said, as they followed Brock to the Too Faced counter. He winked at Sharon.

“He’s going to buy the whole store if you keep doing that,” Sharon told Steve in a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those are real Betsey purses:
> 
> The Pumpkin Spice Iced Latte: https://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/KITSCH-SWEATA-WEATHA-CROSSBODY/252698.uts?selectedColor=MULTI
> 
> The Toaster & Pop Tart: https://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/KITSCH-A-TOAST-TO-YOU-CROSSBODY/248935.uts?selectedColor=PINK
> 
> The Mac n Cheese Box: https://pin.it/w7bzi3yevhel7z


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's irate pug impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best readers!
> 
> (earning our M-rating with this chapter; skip the section that begins "she went back to his apartment after work...." if that's not your thing)

Still Week 3

Jane and Darcy's (and Thor's)

Sunday

 

“Darce, are you doing Bed Weekend?” Jane asked, when she stuck her head in Darcy’s bedroom on Sunday afternoon. “You’re going to become one with the mattress.”

“I’m moping, you need at least two whole days for a good, full-fledged mope,” Darcy said defensively. “My hair’s not even oily yet and I still smell clean. Mostly.”  She sniffed under her arm.

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

“Besides, _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ is on.”

“Come on, my little Linus, take a shower and we’ll go to a movie,” Jane said.

“Grrrrrrr,” Darcy said.

“You cannot do your irate pug impression to get out of going to the movie with me and Thor. He wants to see the new horror one.”

“Ughhhhh,” Darcy said. “Why? Can’t I just watch _Charlie Brown_?”

“I’m not going to let you sulk over Brock,” Jane said. “Get up.”

 

They were in line for movie tickets when two blondes appeared on the sidewalk. “Sharon, Steve,” Darcy said, delighted. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hey, Darce,” Steve said. He’d obscured his face with a baseball cap.

“Hi,” Sharon said. “What are you seeing?” Thor and Jane were signing autographs and hadn’t seen them yet.

“The new _Halloween_ ,” Darcy said, pulling a face.

“Not a fan?” Sharon asked.

“I love suspense, I don’t really like horror or gore. But Thor wants to, so….” Darcy

“We’re seeing _The Sound of Music_ , it’s our holiday tradition now,” Steve said cheerfully. There was a special screening of the musical at the theater. Darcy had seen the poster.

“Steve loves _The Sound of Music_ ,” Sharon said. Then she mouthed “help me” behind Steve’s back and grinned at Darcy.

“You know, I saw their grandkids sing with Pink Martini once. The Von Trapps. Two girls and a boy,” Darcy said to Steve. “They can really sing like that.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve said.

“I’m going to say hi to Thor and Jane, I’ll leave you to your Von Trapps,” Sharon said. She rolled her eyes at Darcy as she walked by, out of Steve’s line of sight.

“She thinks I don’t know she’s doing that, but her eye rolls are pretty loud,” Steve said pleasantly.

“Steve!” Darcy said.

“Sharon thinks it’s silly, I know, but c’mon, it’s a nice story. We all need nice stories sometimes, don’t we?” he asked Darcy. She wasn’t a real _Sound of Music_ fan, but she nodded in understanding.

“I wanted to stay home and watch _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,_ ” Darcy confided.

“I love Charlie Brown,” Steve said loyally. “Much better than watching people be hacked to death or whatever. Sam--my buddy from the VA, you know the one--he made me watch those _Saw_ movies. They’re awful,” he said. Darcy had heard about Sam Wilson, aka The Falcon, from Brock mostly because he was known to be the only man brave enough to try to pick up Natasha Romanoff after she’d handed his ass to him in SHIELD’s gym. Most men were too terrified and ran away. Sam had supposedly volunteered to be her guinea pig for widow’s bites, too. He was either brave or stupid or both, Brock had told Darcy.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, making an ick face. She and Sharon ended up switching their tickets. Sharon went off happily to watch a not musical--”any not musical, really, Darce, thank you,” she said--and Darcy went to _The Sound of Music_ with Steve. After the show, she played some of the Pink Martini and The Von Trapps album for Steve on her earbuds, while they waited for the other three in the movie theater’s lobby.

“What’s this called again, doll?” Steve asked.

“ _Dream a Little Dream of Me,_ ” Darcy said.

“That’s real nice,” Steve said, smiling gently at her.

 

Sharon caught him humming a song as she drove him home in her car. “Steve, what are you humming?” she asked. “That’s not Julie Andrews.”

“Uh, nope,” he said, almost bashful. He sighed.

“What?” she said.

“Being single’s hard at Christmas, that’s all,” he said.  

“Steve, it’s October,” Sharon said.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “It’s different for you, you’re a modern woman, Shar. I just would like to meet somebody nice. Peggy told me I ought to move on, but for a long time I wasn’t ready and now that I’ve tried this dating thing, I’m realizing it’s just as difficult as before.” He’d gone on a few dates, but they’d fizzled flat. Women seemed to be interested in him for his celebrity or think he was too old and dull. Or that’s what he assumed. He’d had an easy time with Darcy tonight. No awkwardness, just conversation. Why was that so difficult to find?

“I’m just as single as you, Uncle Stevie,” she said lightly. She agreed with him. Dating sucked. But she didn’t want to get Steve down. He struggled with residual sadness over Aunt Peggy. He needed boosting. Sharon wished Bucky could visit. She hadn’t met Bucky yet--Steve had considered it far too dangerous for his “niece” to meet the Winter Soldier--but their phone calls semed to leave Steve more optimisic.

“You’re a Carter, you’re made of sterner stuff than me, I’m just an old man,” Steve joked.

“Natasha’s always offering to set you up with somebody,” Sharon said neutrally. She thought Nat pushed too hard and should casually introduce Steve to women, but she wasn’t going to challenge the Black Widow’s methods. She’d seen Nat toss men twice her size twenty feet across the SHIELD gym.

“No, no,” Steve said, looking horrified. “Don’t you dare, Shar.”

“I won’t,” Sharon said. She loved Steve too much to feed him to a Russian wolf.

“Since you skipped out on our family tradition, you gotta let me put up a live tree in your apartment this year,” Steve said.

“It gets pine needles all in my carpet,” Sharon groused.

“Can’t have real Christmas with a plastic tree,” Steve said, grinning.

“I thought you midcentury people liked those shiny artificial ones?” Sharon said. “Can’t I get one of those?” She did not have time to water a friggin’ tree. The last real one she’d had had fallen over during the night and made a big mess.

“That might make a nice compromise,” Steve said. “Real cheerful.”

 

***

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’m rather vexed with my fake boyfriend/ostensible friend. Have you seen him?

 **Commander Oblivious:** Me?

 **Commander Oblivious:** You changed my display name back?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I haven’t seen you or heard from you since Friday. I feel neglected. Unfriended. I had to choose between horror movie with Thor and Jane or _The Sound of Music_ with Steve. Do you realize that Steve likes to mouth the words to “I Am Sixteen, Going On Seventeen”?

 **Captain Oblivious:** You saw a movie with Cap?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Truthfully, I saved Sharon from the hills that are alive. We switched tickets and she got to see the horror movie.

 **Captain Oblivious:** Oh.

 **Captain Oblivious:** It wasn’t like a date with Cap, was it?

 **Captain Oblivious:** He knows we’re supposed to be together.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** But we’re not really together together, are we?

 **Captain Oblivious:** Steve wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of a guy.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I guess you’ll have to worry about whether I’m enough to lead Steve into temptation.

 **Captain Oblivious:** Oh.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Oh. Oh? That’s it?

 **Captain Oblivious:** I miss spending time with you and your cold feet?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Adequate. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

 

*******

**Captain Oblivious:** How do I tell if Darcy’s flirting with me or if she’s mad?

 **Agent S. Carter:** You cannot be serious.

 **Captain Oblivious:** I think she might be upset that I haven’t talked to her all weekend.

 **Agent S. Carter:** Send me screenshots, moron.

 

“Dear God,” Sharon said out loud. She peered at her phone again. Was she reading the texts right?

“What?” Steve said, coming over to her with a mug of hot cocoa and sitting down on his couch. He’d insisted on her staying over at his place, “in case she had nightmares ‘bout that horror film.” Sharon didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was the only one of them who had bad nightmares from gory films. It was sweet, really.

“It’s Rumlow,” Sharon told him. “He’s concerned that he can’t tell if Darcy’s flirting or mad at him.”

“That can be difficult,” Steve said. Sharon raised an eyebrow. “This one time, I asked your Aunt Peggy about havin’ fondue with Howard Stark….”

“Oh, Steve,” Sharon said, shaking her head. “Please tell me fondue wasn’t your day’s slang for sex?”

“It was a tactical error,” Steve admitted. “Serious tactical error. What’d he do?”

“Rumlow hasn’t talked to her since Friday,” Sharon filled Steve in. “She has no idea he’s been running around town looking for things for her, because he swore Jane to secrecy. So, she thinks he dropped her like a hot potato after their dinner on Friday.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Whoops.”

  


***

Week 4

The Triskelion

SHIELD headquarters

Washington, DC

 

Darcy, Jane, and Thor went into Triskelion on Monday morning. Darcy got Jane and her coffee and headed back for the lab. She was walking past a huddle of SHIELD employees when she heard one of them say, “isn’t that Rumlow’s new girlfriend?” The woman’s voice wasn’t unfriendly, just curious.

“Don’t stare, Mike, God, don’t you know not to stare?” a second woman said. Darcy almost laughed.

“I thought that was Foster’s assistant?” a man--presumably Mike--said.

“Same woman. According to Jimmy, they were making out under a bat at Filomena’s the other night,” the first woman said. Darcy turned a corner, then stopped behind a wall. She wanted to eavesdrop.

“Huh,” the guy said. “Isn’t she a little young for him? Pretty girl.”

“Her and Foster are both gorgeous, really,” the second woman said. “No wonder Foster has Thor and she snagged Rumlow. It’s really unfair when people are pretty and smart and everything without serum.”

“So, it’s okay with serum?” Mike said in a joking voice.

“Hell yes, Mikey. Mama likes the Cap,” second woman said.

 

Yes, Darcy thought. They’d turned the gossip around. She would take too-young-for-Rumlow lab babe. That was okay. But where was Brock, anyway? “Jane,” she said, when she got back to the lab, “where’s Brock? I have news.”

“You just missed him,” Jane said sadly. “He brought you a present, but then he got called to his physical therapist’s office. It’s on your desk.”

“Does he want me to wait to open it?” Darcy asked. There was big bag on her desk. It had an adorable print of colorful donuts and polka dot tissue paper peeking out.

“Ummm, he didn’t say,” Jane said.

“I’ll wait,” Darcy said, moving it slightly to the side. Two hours later, the bag was awfully tempting, she thought.

“Open it,” Jane said. “The wait is killing me.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, taking out the tissue paper. Inside the bag, there was something small, orange, and glittering. She shrieked.

“Ow, dolphin noise!” Jane said.

“It’s a pumpkin spice latte bag! Iced latte, Janey,” she said, delighted. “It’s sooooooo cute. How did he know I would looooooove this? It’s Betsey Johnson. He got me my favorite pumpkin spice coffee, too.” There was a bag of coffee next to the handbag. She squeezed the handbag excitedly, clutching it to her chest like a stuffed animal. “Ooooh, there’s something in here, I think?” She unzipped the bag. Inside was a makeup palette. “Look, Jane, it’s a gingerbread one from Too Faced.”

“He got you coffee, a coffee purse, and food-themed makeup?” Jane said, laughing. "He knows you." Jane hadn't actually vetted this bag. She knew he'd also gotten her a mac 'n cheese bag; she'd been expecting that one.

“It’s adorable,” Darcy said. “I love it.”

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Where are yoooooou?

 **Commander Oblivious:** Did you look at your present?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Yes.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I couldn’t wait any longer. But I love it. I love it so much.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** It’s perfect.

 **Commander Oblivious:** Good.

 **Commander Oblivious:** I’m downstairs with Cap and Jack. In the locker room.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I’m finding you now.

 

“Hey, lady,” a STRIKE Charlie guy said, as Darcy came into the locker room. “What are you doing?” The mostly naked guy next to STRIKE Charlie guy stared at her.

“Put a towel on,” STRIKE Charlie scolded him. “She can see all your business, fool.”

“Where’s Rumlow?” Darcy said.

“Over there,” the second guy said, pointing.

“Thank you! Your butt is excellent, by the way,” she said, giving him a thumbs up.

She found Brock sitting on a bench, talking to Jack and Cap. He was shirtless and drenched in sweat. His sling was hanging in the locker. Darcy practically threw herself at him. “Hey,” he said. “I’m all sweaty. I just finished my PT eval. Also, this is a men’s locker room.”

“Don’t care,” she said, kissing him. He kissed her back.

“We’ll give you a minute,” Steve said.

“Yup,” Jack said cheerfully.

“What are you doing?” Brock said.

“Kissing you,” she told him. “I was very put out when I couldn’t kiss you on Saturday or Sunday.”

“I was shopping for you,” he said.

“I love it alllllllll,” she said, squeeing slightly. “Also, I’m pretty sure I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend anymore.”

“No?” he said.

“You don’t get to see your fake boyfriend naked, it’s a real drawback,” she said.

“The one flaw of my plan,” he admitted. "You want to make this real?"

“Uh-huh. If you don't mind," she said.

"Nope," he said.

"Is that my picture?” Darcy said curiously, spying her photo over her shoulder. “Wow, I do look like Picture Peggy.” In his haste to leave, Steve had left his locker door open, too. A smiling Peggy hung on the door next to her. Young Peggy looked very happy. The photograph had been tinted so her cheeks were rosy, her lips were red, and her hair was a glossy brown.

“I told you,” he said.

“Come back to the lab with me and make out in the supply closet?” she said.

“I should probably shower first, I’m a mess,” he said, running his good hand down her bare arm. “What if I make dinner at my place tonight?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, kissing him again.

“You’re going to kill me, Darcy Lewis,” he said. A guy walking by was visibly startled when he saw her and made an exclamatory noise. “Calm down, Lopez,” Rumlow said.

“Uh, Brock? Fury’s in one of the sparring rings. You might want to get your girl out of here before he comes back to change?” Lopez said.

“That’s my cue,” Darcy said. She didn’t want to run into a naked Nick Fury or something. She’d never stop giggling.

“Meet you upstairs,” Brock said, smiling slowly. Darcy felt a little swoony.

 "Wait, kiss me again," she said. 

***

She went back to his apartment after work. “You want food?” Brock said, as they kissed in the kitchen. They’d been kissing on and off throughout the day: in the supply closet, in the SHIELD cafeteria, at her desk.

“No,” she said.

“No?” Brock said, confused.

“Show me your room,” Darcy said.

“You want to skip dinner?” he said lustfully.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Darcy told him. She guided him to the bedroom. He eased himself on the bed and they started kissing again. She was careful of his sling; he was less cautious.

“Ow,” he muttered.

“Someone needs their massage therapy appointment,” she teased, crawling up to work on his shoulder. She massages him for several minutes, dotting kisses on shoulders as she went.

“Oh God,” he said, “that feels incredible.”

“Lay back,” Darcy told him, stacking pillows behind him.

“What are you doing, princess ?” Brock asked. His eyes were eagerly surveying her.

“Spoiling you. Let’s get some of these clothes off,” Darcy said. She helped detach his sling,  took off his shirt, carefully reattached the sling, then took off his shoes, and finally, eased his pants down around his calves. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how freaking amazing your body is. It’s amazeballs. That’s not a six pack, it’s an eight pack.”

“It was a twelve pack before you hooked me on movie theater popcorn and 5th Avenue bars,” he said, grinning.

“Huh,” she said speculatively, tilting her head. “I think you can still pass the fitness test.” She giggled.

“What?” he said.

“I can’t believe I get to play with SHIELD’s sexiest agent, I feel like it’s Christmas morning and I got the toy I wanted,” she said in a delighted voice.

“You think I’m the sexiest?” he said.

“Uhhh, yeah,” Darcy said. She started kissing his collarbone. “You’re hot and beautiful. ”

“Thanks,” he said, chuckling. “Wait, you’re not implying anything about my height with toy, are you?”

“Nah, I want you to be still, though,” she said, grinning as she touched him. He would probably be offended if she called him pretty, right? But he was so pretty.

“Will you take that off for me?” he asked, touching her shirtsleeve. “Normally, I’d help, but my doctor says I’m not allowed.” He watched, captivated, as she pulled the shirt over her head. She was wearing a deep red bra.

“Did you want me to leave this on?” Darcy asked. Her voice was too innocent, he thought. She was teasing him.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. She took it off slowly, peeling down one strap at a time before unhooking it.

“I lov—like your body,” he said, staring. She was unbelievably pale and soft-looking.

“Mmm,” she said, eyeing him with open lust. She dipped her head down and kissed his sternum, navigating around the sling. Her nipples dragged his upper belly and she shivered in pleasure.

“Felt good to me, too,” he murmured. He cupped one breast with his free hand and stroked her nipple gently.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to move so much,” she scolded.

“I can’t resist,” Brock said. He chuckled as she ran her tongue over his abs playfully. “Darcy, I know we can’t do much with my arm, but I wan—”

“Relax, I’m taking care of you tonight,” she said, sliding down his boxers. He was hard already. Her long hair felt silky as it pooled over his thighs and abdomen and he used his free hand to caress the ends he could reach. She sucked the sensitive skin just below his belly button in a teasing arch, then moved over his hips and down one thigh, then the other. He was hyper-aware of the pressure of her breasts against him.

“That feels so good, oh God, fuck me, princess.” She flicked her eyes up and grinned at him.

“Does it?” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. Somehow, the look in her eyes made him crazier. She was working him over slowly, he realized, on purpose. “Darcy--” he said.

“Shhh, don’t move, baby,” she said.

“Oh my fucking God,” he said in a heated moan when she took him in her mouth. He tried not to move too much in response to her motions.

 

***

 

“Hey,” Darcy said, when she woke up in the morning. He was getting dressed on the edge of the bed. “Why are you getting ready?” The clock said 5:30am.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said, securing his sling. “Fury’s called me into a meeting, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s okay,” she said reaching out and rubbing his shoulder.

“Stay in bed. I’ll get you coffee,” he said, leaning over to kiss her with his good arm for support. She ran her hands through his hair. “Hey, not the hair,” he said teasingly.

“I love your hair,” she told him. She really did. It was pretty hair.

“Yeah, you’re crazy about me,” he said, sitting back up. “I’ll be right back, princess.” Darcy stretched out happily in the bed, after he disappeared through the doorway.

“You need a movie poster in here,” she called to him.

“Yeah, I know,” he called back. “What would you pick?”

“More from the guy who did your poster for _The Birds_ ? I looked him up, he’s incredible,” Darcy said, getting her phone off his nightstand. “His name is Laurent Durieux, he does all kinds of movies. _It’s A Wonderful Life, Jaws, The Godfather, King Kong…_ ”

“Yeah?” he said, coming back with a cup of coffee. He sat down next to her and looked at her phone screen. “Those are nice. Here’s your coffee.” He kissed her forehead.

“I hate that you have to go,” she said, straightening out his t-shirt collar. The sling had folded a corner. He was wearing his tactical clothes, not a suit.

“It’s the job,” he said seriously. “Listen...I, uh, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” she said, grinning at him. Did he want to fool around before he left or something?

“I think we should take things slow, be casual,” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“It’s how I normally do things,” he said. “Nothing too serious.”

“Are you joking?” she said, feeling so surprised it was like he’d stabbed her with the damn knife in his boot. She hadn’t been expecting him to pull the no-strings card.

“Look, I, uh, just think, it’s best,” he said, standing up and raking a hand through his hair.

“Best for who?” she said.

“Both of us,” he said. She scoffed. “Hey,” he said, “you know I travel for work, I can’t have you getting all bent out of shape when you don’t hear from me for a few days. I mean, it’s nice that you miss me, but you’re gonna have to get used to some things….”

“Because I’m a stage 5 clinger?” Darcy said.

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “What are you doing?” She was getting out of bed.

“I’m leaving,” she said, stepping into her leggings. “I cannot believe you’re pulling this shit on me. Where’s my freaking bra...well, you know what, you can keep that, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to my boobs again,” she snapped. She pulled her shirt over her head, furious.

“You can’t just go, it’s five o’clock in the morning,” he said, as she pulled on her boots and zipped them. She was moving quickly because she was so mad.

“Oh, I can. By the way, this is me getting bent out of shape,” she said, marching out of his bedroom with her phone in hand.

“What, you’re just going to stand on the curb, wait for an Uber in the dark?” he said.

“Jane will send Thor,” she said, gathering her stuff. Including her cute purse and coat. “Which means you better not be hanging around, asshole.”

“Oh, that’s real nice, princess,” he said.

“You’re a jerk,” she told him. “A jerk!” she repeated, slamming the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's makeup palette: https://www.toofaced.com/shop/eyes/eye-shadow-palettes/gingerbread-spice-eye-shadow-palette/90690.html
> 
> And the Pumpkin Spice bag from last chapter: https://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/KITSCH-SWEATA-WEATHA-CROSSBODY/252698.uts?selectedColor=MULTI


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are your feelings about fruitcake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for the comments and kudos! Y'all are AWESOME.

Week 4

Washington, DC

Triskelion

 

“What the hell is wrong with you, you maladaptive dbag asshole?” Jane Foster said as she walked across the SHIELD gym. Everyone looked up.

“Foster--,” Brock began, halting the bag he was working with. He’d been punching things with his good arm. It felt good to get the frustration out, despite the pain in his injured shoulder with each impact. Darcy wasn’t answering her phone or responding to his messages. Jane marched furiously over and pointed her finger in his face.

“Did you enjoy making her think you _actually liked her_ while you waited to spring the no-strings attached crap? Is that part of the fun for you?” she hissed in a low voice.

“That is not what I fucking meant--” he said.

“Is something wrong?” Steve said in a quiet voice behind them. “Language, Rumlow.”

“Sure, Cap,” he said sarcastically.

“Yes,” Jane said.

“No, it’s none of your business, Cap,” Brock said.

“Steve, he took advantage of Darcy,” Jane said in a lethally quiet voice. “He slept with her and then told her that he didn’t want to be in a relationship--” Jane said.

“What?” Steve said, too loudly. He looked horrified.

 

From across the room, Natasha Romanoff, Jack Rollins, and Sharon Carter exchanged a glance and then began moving towards the group. They would need to extract Rumlow, based on Steve’s look. “You stand in front of Steve,” Nat said to Sharon. “I am confident he will not hit you, but I am less sure about Jack.”

“That’s fair,” Jack said, shrugging cheerfully.

“I will move Rumlow,” Nat said.

“Hey, I been meaning to ask, Shar, if I survive, will you have dinner with me?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” Sharon said. Jack Rollins was really very handsome, Sharon thought. Nicely low-key, too. Because he was Australian, he treated her more normally, not as the weird quasi-celebrity great-niece of Peggy Carter.

“Bonzer,” Jack said.

“You will not die, but you will perhaps be maimed,” Nat said. She smiled her Mona Lisa smile. She had been trying to get Sharon down to the gym when Jack sparred on purpose. They would make an ideal couple, the Black Widow thought. But she had not let on; Sharon was more subtle than Steve and needed finesse. Natasha was quite proud of herself.

 

“Would you like some assistance, Jane?” Steve offered.

“Oh, I have this handled, Steve, I just wanted you to know what kind of man he is,” Jane said sharply. She didn’t want all of SHIELD to know, but she wanted Steve to know.

“All right,” Steve said, stepping back. The trio behind him paused, alert.

“That is not what I said, I said I wanted to go slow, that doesn’t mean we weren’t dating,” Rumlow said quietly to Jane. His shoulder hurt and he felt miserable. He’d been trying to warn Darcy that they wouldn’t be able to spend every minute together--his PT eval had been good and they’d moved up his potential clearance date for field duty--and trying to get her to realize he’d be gone a lot soon. Also, he was terrified she’d want to drag him to every Christmas party and holiday get-together. He hated those. He’d only wanted some input into the course of the relationship, he thought guiltily. Was that too fucking much to ask?

“Yeah, right. Because you spring that after you have sex with somebody? All women know what that really means,” Jane said. “Well, she’s out of your hair now.”

“What?” Brock said.

“Fury’s moving you,” Jane told him. “You’re not our detail anymore.”

“Can you get her to return my calls?” Brock asked Jane plaintively.

“No,” Jane said. “If she doesn’t want to call you back, that’s her choice.”

 

She turned on her heel, brushed past Steve, and left the gym. She was going home to check on her people. Steve looked at Brock for a long minute. “You should apologize to her,” he said quietly. Then he went to over to Natasha and Sharon.

 

“Mate,” Jack said, once it was clear Steve wasn’t going hit Rumlow, “what happened between you and Darcy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Brock said grimly, hitting the bag again. He couldn’t believe she was just never going to see him again. One fight and she ghosted? And he was the asshole?

 

***

“I hate him, I hate his perfect hair and his great abs, and his…” Darcy began. She was sitting in her bed that afternoon.

“Aye,” Thor said. He was sitting next to her in bed. “Shall we have another from our friends the Ben and the Jerry of Vermont?” he asked, looking at his empty ice cream container a little sadly. Jane had told them both to stay home that day when she and Thor returned to the apartment at quarter to six. It was difficult to tell which one of them had been madder. Thor had wanted to smite something and Darcy had veered between pissed off and teary.

“Jane, do we have more Ben & Jerry’s?” Darcy called.

“What?” Jane said. She’d come home to check on them and was gathering up Darcy’s mascara-stained tissues and the empty bags of Cheez-Its scattered around the condo’s main area. Both Darcy and Thor were stress eaters and stress criers.

“We neeeeeeed more ice cream,” Darcy whined.

“Also chips of the potato, if we have them?” Thor said hopefully. His eyes were a little red from crying when Darcy cried. He was a sympathetic crier, like Frigga.

“I have news,” Jane said, coming into the room with a family-size bag of Maui onion kettle chips and a pint of Brownie Batter Core. “I talked to Fury. They were already planning to put him on VIP security, since his shoulder’s improving rapidly--Steve thinks it’s the HYDRA serums--so, they’ve moved him out of our lab.”

“What did you tell Fury?” Darcy asked glumly.

“Just that you had a disagreement and he’s not a good fit,” Jane said, passing them the snacks. She’d held in her rage in Fury’s office, then found Brock.  

“Ughhhhh, like Fury doesn’t know,” Darcy said. “Fury knows.” She pried the cold cardboard lid off the pint and blinked rapidly. She didn’t want to look at Jane. She might cry again. Rejection sucked. It sucked so bad.

“I still say I should smite him,” Thor said, opening the potato chips bag with a little too much emphasis. A few chips rose in the air and fell into his lap.

“Five second rule,” Darcy said.

“Aye,” he said, crunching one. “Still good. Tell me, what is the onion of Maui?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said. “Sometimes, I think we should start a Youtube where we review food, you know? I need a project.”

“You should,” Jane said. “Why don’t I get your ice cream soft in the microwave?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, handing her the carton.

 

Walking into the kitchen, Jane shook her head. Darcy put on a good front, but she was unusually sensitive to rejection. Jane would encourage a Youtube project if that meant Darcy wouldn’t have time to feel depressed about that freaking jack-booted thug. “Tell me about your Youtube idea?” Jane called.

“Well, we could do ice cream…” Darcy said.

“I saw a peppermint bark one at the store the other week,” Jane called back. “I could get you all the seasonal ones?”

“Aye,” Thor said happily. He liked peppermint bark.

“There are a lot of weird potato chips?” Darcy suggested.

“I’ll get those, too,” Jane said.

***

 

Stiil Week 4

Washington, DC

Triskelion

 

Darcy was briefly alone in the lab, answering emails from the day before, when a shadow fell over her desk. “Hi,” Brock said. He swallowed a little nervously.

“Hello--” Darcy began.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really fucking sorry. I messed up.”

“Yeah, you did,” she said.

“I didn’t mean--” he began.

“To blow me off?” she said. “After I blew you off? Don’t worry, that’s not the first time I’ve ever been through that particular experience,” she said bitterly. “I’ll recover. And, ironically, your rep is restored now, isn’t it? ”

“Hey, don’t--” he said, seizing her shoulder.

“Don’t put your hands on me,” Darcy said, flinching a little. He pulled back like she’d burned him.

“I won’t, just--just talk to me, okay?” he said.

“Fine,” she said, turning back to her screen.

“I meant now,” he said.

“We’re at work,” she said.

“Supply closet?” he offered.

“What’s that?” she said, noticing the bag at his feet when she stood up.

“It’s for you,” he said. “But let’s talk first, okay?”

 

When he followed her into the closet, she turned to look at him. “Okay, I’m here. Talk.”

“Give me a minute,” he said, rubbing his jaw.

“Okay,” she said, leaning against a shelf. She waited. And waited. “I have a job, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing again, hurt your feelings. You’re just so sensitive.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said sharply.

“Well, it’s true,” he said defensively.

“I’m so sensitive?” Darcy said.

“Even your damn feet are sensitive,” he muttered.

“Stop thinking perv thoughts about my feet, you creep,” she told him.

“I wasn’t. I am now, though,” he said, grinning slowly. He eyed her.

“Ugh, I’m leaving,” Darcy said, making for the door. He barred her way, then slipped his arm around her.

“C’mon, let me explain,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “Just give me a few minutes? I’m sorry. I want to be with you, okay?”

 

“What is that noise?” Jane said, as she and Thor entered the lab. It sounded like a crash.

“You will not want to know, my Jane. I think we shall venture forth for coffee,” he said, guiding her back out of the lab again.

“What?” Jane said.

“I believe it is the sound of Rumlow and Darcy possibly reconciling...in the supply closet,” Thor said.

“Oh,” Jane said.

“You cannot go back in,” Thor said, restraining her slightly.

“Why not? He’s a total shit,” Jane said.

“You must let Darcy make her own mistakes,” Thor said gently.

 

“Shit,” Darcy muttered, as the pack of paper fell to the floor with a crash. Brock had both arms around her, moving over her body. “We need to stop. You shouldn’t have your sling off.”

“Fuck it,” he said intensely. “I want you, princess. I want you.” He knelt and slid her pants down around her ankles.

“Brock,” she said, “your arm.” His shook his head.  “Oh God,” Darcy murmured, as he pressed himself inside her. He was being stupid, she thought. Reckless. She braced herself against the closet door, as he supported one thigh with his good arm and kept a fumbling hold on the other. He kissed her.

“It’s worth the pain,” he said, once he’d pulled his mouth away for a moment. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“Is it?” she said.

“To be with you? Yes,” he said.

 

She honestly didn’t know how to interpret that. At all. Did he mean it pained him to do boyfriend things, but it was worth it for the sex?  “Are we okay?” he said later, zipping his pants.

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling her pants up.

“Do you want to have dinner tonight?” he asked, looking relieved.

“I’ve got things to do tonight.” She and Thor were testing out cameras for the Youtube project. “Why don’t we just play it, you know, casually?” Darcy suggested.

“Okay,” he said. But he surprised her by holding the side of her face with his good hand as he kissed her.

 

She didn’t go to dinner with him that night. But a few nights later, she showed up at his apartment. “Hi,” she said. “I like the present.” He’d left the bag by her desk and she’d opened it. She was wearing her mac ‘n cheese handbag over one shoulder. He’d filled it with movie theater candy and a note about dinner and a movie.

“You want to have dinner with me tonight?” he said, delighted.

“Nope,” she said.

“Why not?” he said.

“I’m just here for sex. I already ate,” she told him.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

 

He followed her to the bedroom. She’d dressed to undress: a thick winter sweater dress, lingerie, and boots. She lifted the dress over her head and heard him inhale slightly. “That’s, uh, so hot,” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said coolly. Her lingerie was a raspberry color. She had bought it back when she was dating Ian, but hadn’t worn it before. “You should leave your sling on this time,” she told him. “No injuries.”

“You’re worried about my shoulder?” he asked, sliding his arm out of the sling to remove his shirt. She didn’t respond, merely leaned down to unzip her boots and set them next to the nightstand.

“Come here,” Darcy said. She eased his jeans down around his calves, then turned and crawled onto the bed.

“You don’t want to be on top?” Brock asked. He’d been imagining her straddling him in that flimsy bit of fabric.

“You won’t have to put weight on your shoulder,” she said, glancing back at him.

“Yeah,” he said, getting a condom. She heard him sigh audibly, but then his voice changed as he touched her. Darcy closed her eyes and leaned into his hips as he stroked her. His hands were warm against her inner thighs.

“That feels good,” she told him. That was why she was there: she wanted to feel good.

 

“I’m getting my sling off early. In two weeks, maybe,” he said, sitting up in bed. She was getting dressed again. They’d both dozed a little.

“That’s good news,” Darcy said politely.

“Did you want to do something after? To celebrate? Maybe go see the Christmas decorations at Filomena’s?” Brock asked.

“I’m really busy with a new project,” she told him. “Thor and I are starting a fun hobby.”

“You can stay for breakfast?” he said. Darcy shook her head.

 

When she left, he leaned against the door. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. “Shit.”

 

***

“Darce,” Jane said when she got home that night, “where did you go?”

“Brock’s,” Darcy said. “Then I went to the grocery store and bought fruitcake stuff?” She was carrying groceries.

“Darce, we would have gone with you,” Jane said.

“It’s okay, I had energy,” Darcy said. “And it’s only eleven-fifteen.”

“You’re dating Brock again?” Jane asked, as she helped Darcy unload the groceries. They didn’t talk at work, Jane knew.

“We hook up sometimes,” she said neutrally.

“That’s why he still gives you gifts?” Jane said. She’d noticed the mac ‘n cheese purse. It was cute.

“Probably,” Darcy replied.

“Darce, this isn’t like you. You like being with somebody you hang out with, not just a hookup.”

“I know,” Darcy said, sighing. “I’m too pissed at him right now to watch movies or go to dinner. But he’s really good in bed.” Jane looked sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Jane said.

“He’s getting what he wants,” Darcy pointed out. “I think. You think fruitcake is terrible?” Jane made a face.

“Uh--” Jane said.

“We’ll put a lot of rum on it,” Darcy said.

 

***

 

Week 11

Early December

Washington, DC

Darcy and Jane’s living room, aka, the studio

 

“The shape is excellent for dipping into your mashed potatoes of Thanksgiving, they are pleasantly crunchy, and I find the wasabi flavor quite delicious. In conclusion, I think these kettle chips are worth your attention, dear viewers,” Thor said into the camera set up a few feet away. “What say you, my Lightning Sister?” He passed her the bowl of chips.

“I’m just mad you ate all of my Hawaiian barbeque chips, including the ones I hid from you in the back of the kitchen cabinet,” Darcy said, looking dubiously at the wasabi. She tried one, made a face at the camera, and shook her head.

“You may hide much from me, but Mjolnir sees all,” Thor said cheerfully. The hammer was next to them on the couch.

“Traitor!” Darcy said, leaning out to point at Mew-Mew. In response, Thor covered Mew-Mew with his hands, so she wouldn’t hear.

“You will hurt Mjolnir’s feelings,” he chided. “What is our next snack for this video?”

“I’m taking back Mew-Mew’s favorite wet wipes, if she keeps selling me out like that. See how you like it when you’ve got stuck-on alien goo!” Darcy said.

“Do not bicker with your hammer sibling, Darcy,” Thor said. “It is the middle of the Midgardian Yuletide. We must have family togetherness, if we cannot have the glories of battle. My brother Loki arrives on the 16th of December!”

“Exiled again,” Darcy told the camera.

“Still, he is delighted to meet you and gather with us at the celebration of Yuletide with our friend, the Captain of America!” Thor said cheerfully.

“That’s our big news for this week. We’re doing something different. Captain America will be here to sample a buffet of American holiday desserts with us--” Darcy said.

“We will have fruitcake,” Thor said. “I am quite looking forward to it.”

“Yup, there will be traditional desserts like fruitcake, gingerbread men, and a Yule log--aka, Bûche de Noël, if you took high school French--as well as my Grandma Lewis’s Peppermint Red Velvet cake, which is just something she stole from a 1998 issue of _Southern Living_ ,” Darcy said. “Sorry, Grandma. Jane and I are baking up a storm in the next five days.” Off-camera, Jane groaned.

“The fruit cake has been steeping in Asgardian rum since the Giving of Thanks,” Thor said, “which is I have been told is a--what is the word?”

“Problematic,” Darcy supplied.

“A problematic holiday, yes, but the food is quite delicious. I am very sorry for the misdeeds of the European colonizers. Perhaps you could create a new holiday on Midgard? Just declare it the official day of the Turkey sometime in October?” Thor suggested. “Everyone could eat delicious turkey without the ominous shadow of colonization and bloodshed? It would be an improvement, would it not?”

“Oh no,” Darcy said. “Thor, you know we’ve talked about the turkey--”

“I love meat!” Thor said. “How can you not?”

“Dear vegans, please do send Thor anymore PETA books and videos,” Darcy said. “Please. He never watches them. We just donate them to the DC library book sale.”

“The attitudes of the racist pilgrims and the Indians do remind me of my father and the Jotun, perhaps Loki could weigh in when he arrives?” Thor mused aloud. “I think he would enjoy this video series, too, as these wasabi chips leave a nice green powder upon your fingers?”

Jane walked into the shot and handed Darcy a box. "Native Americans, Thor, not Indians," Jane corrected gently. “Here are your next snacks,” she said to Darcy. She was tired of the PETA letters, too. She checked the sticky note she’d removed from the box. “They're from Bronx43,” Jane said to Darcy significantly.

“Oooh, Trader Joe’s Chocolate-Covered Pretzel Twists. Let’s twist this!” Darcy said, holding up the box. “They have sprinkles ones.”

“My Lightning Sister is quite fond of the brightly-colored sprinkles,” Thor said seriously.

“Thanks to one of our viewers, Bronx43, who always finds us the rarest Trader Joe’s stuff,” Darcy said brightly. Of course, she knew Bronx43 was Brock. He’d started commenting on the videos and sending her and Thor snacks to review at work as soon as they began the channel. When she’d started a sister Youtube channel for beauty stuff--she did makeup and hair, Thor demonstrated Asgardian fishtail braids--he’d started sending her makeup, too. She mostly avoided him at work, but the little gifts for her kept coming. They were a signal that he still wanted to hook up, she thought. She could tell the weeks that STRIKE Alpha was in town, because something small would show up on her desk daily: a box of Sno-Caps, a tube of lipgloss, even a really pretty fragrance mist that she actually wore, because it was too nice to give away, Fiori by Vince Camuto. It reminded her, oddly, of a long-discontinued Stila perfume she’d owned in high school, Jade Blossom. How had he known she’d like it?

 

She saw him once or twice a week or maybe every other week. He always offered dinner or breakfast and tried to talk. She never stayed.

 

***

 

Still Week 11

Early December

Washington, DC

Triskelion

 

“You realize that sending someone gifts at work could constitute harassment?” the SHIELD therapist said to Brock.

“Has she complained?” he said, sitting up. He hadn’t much been paying attention. It was a regular mental wellness check for the STRIKE commanders. He often zoned out as he looked at the therapist’s Potomac themed artwork and soothing blue walls.

“No, but I’ve just confirmed the widespread rumor that you’re actually sending your ex presents through our internal mail system,” Dr. Zahn said.

“It’s nothing bad, just you know, candy and lipgloss and stuff like that,” Brock said. “Nothing ugly or threatening. It’s for her Youtube.”

“Her Youtube?” the therapist said.

“She and Thor review snacks and coffee and she has a beauty channel, too. Here,” he said, handing her his phone. He had a video of Darcy doing holiday party makeup already queued up. Glitter eyeliner. “She does neat things, really. I’m just trying to be supportive of her hobby while....” he trailed off.

“Uh-huh,” Dr. Zahn said. “While what?”

“I want her to know I’m here, in case she wants to start really dating again. Right now, we, uh, we hook up sometimes,” he said. Zahn looked at the screen and nodded; she’d once seen Brock Rumlow making out with the girl from the Youtube video in SHIELD’s cafeteria. But that had been weeks ago.

“And why did you stop seeing one another?” the therapist asked.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “I’m, uh, really shit at talking--”

“Excuse me?” the therapist said.

“Jack Rollins says I’m either inarticulate or cryptic or some shit, anyway. I was trying to tell her that we, uh, would have to be casual, you know, like flexible? My schedule is unpredictable. I’m gonna miss dates, I’m gonna be gone for big life events, I might miss birthdays, shit like that, she couldn’t get wound up about it,” he said. “I phrased it badly.”

“Anything else?” the therapist said.

“I really fucking hate all the traditional stuff---going to parties, having dinner with other couples, it’s miserable,” he said. “I’m a shitty boyfriend.” He rubbed his jaw and smiled, with an odd kind of bitterness. Dr. Zahn thought it was to cover his embarrassment. He hardly ever spoke about his personal life during their sessions. It was like pulling teeth.

“But you’re giving her gifts?” Dr. Zahn said.

“Yeah?” Brock said. “So?”

“That’s unusual,” the therapist said.

“Oh,” Brock said. “But that’s fun. I like the challenge of finding things she might like.”

“You think that’s fun?” Dr. Zahn said.

“Everything we did, just the two of us, that was fun,” he said.

“What kinds of things?” she asked.

“Movies, dinners, sex, uh, sharing hotel rooms,” Brock said.

“Sharing what?” the therapist asked.

“We stayed in the same room when I was Foster’s detail at a conference once, before, uh, the sex,” he said. “Platonically. I, uh, enjoyed that. I miss it.”

“Why?” the therapist said.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“No?” she said.

“Well, I mean, she’s gorgeous. You see that, right? But she’s fun, too. We have similar senses of humor, she’s easy to be around. Knows all kinds of stuff, reads interesting books. You know, she and Foster started a SHIELD quiz bowl and she and the archivists win every week so far?” he said.

“Do you go?” Dr. Zahn asked.

“Uh, no,” he said. “Don’t want to upset her. Jack goes with Sharon Carter, he tells me.”

“What if you went?” she suggested.

“I’d say the wrong damn thing,” he said.

“Why not date other women then?” Dr. Zahn suggested. “Move on, if you think the relationship is irretrievably broken down?”

“Look, I don’t think it’s like that, but--” he said.

“Good,” she interrupted smoothly. “Anything beyond that will probably be an excuse to avoid intimacy, Mr. Rumlow, so I’m just going to tell you that our time is up and that you should talk to her, if you don’t think all hope is lost.”

 

“Jesus,” Brock muttered as he left the office. “All hope is lost?” That seemed a little overdone to him. Still, it nagged. It was still bugging him when he got off work that day. He found himself driving to an apartment building. He walked in as if he belonged, then jogged up the steps. This was the right door, he knew. Her place. Inside, he could hear Christmas songs. They’d strung up lights around the doorframe. He took a deep breath and knocked. A few moments later, there were footsteps and the door swung open.

“Hello,” Sharon Carter said. “What dumb thing have you done now?”

“Can I at least come inside before you start?” he asked.

“What would be the fun in that?” she said. “Everybody’s playing cards.”

“Cards?” Brock said. “Like poker?” Sharon scrunched her face.

“What’s your game called again, guys?” she said, half-turning.

“Gin rummy,” Steve supplied. “Tell Rumlow to come in, Shar. It’s rude to leave a man on the doorstep at Christmas.” Sharon rolled her eyes.

“My dad says you can come in and play,” she joked.

“I heard that,” Steve said.

“I know,” Sharon said.

“Whoa,” Rumlow said, as he walked into the living room. “I’ve never seen a silver tree that, uh, big before, Carter.”

“I had it made special. Just big enough for a tree topper,” Steve said. He was sitting on the floor at Sharon’s coffee table. Around the round edge, Jack, Natasha, and Cameron joined him.

“He means that the angel is currently scratching my ceiling. Did you want a beer?” Sharon asked Brock.

“I think American Christmases are bonzer, I’ve never seen this many decorations,” Jack said to Cam. He was concentrating on his cards, which meant he looked especially rabid and dangerous.

“Mmm-hmm,” Cam said. He was struggling to remember the rules of gin rummy. He played computer solitaire, but that was it.

“That’s just Steve!” Sharon called, as Brock followed her to the fridge. “Every year, he buys more. It looks like a Santa’s Village in here. I caught him yesterday, decorating the back of the toilet. In my bathroom, not even the guest one. He did that last week,” she told Brock.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. “I noticed when I had to step over the train tracks.” There was a Christmas train running through the apartment.

“Please tell me the train isn’t on? Someone’s going to break an ankle and sue me, Steve,” Sharon said.

“How can somebody sue at Christmas?” Steve said.

“Americans’ll sue for anything now, Cap,” Jack said thoughtfully.

“Ain’t that a disappointment?” Steve said, shaking his head. “Oh, look, TCM’s playing _Miracle on 34th Street_. I love that one.”

“Darcy does, too,” Brock said, sighing. “But _Christmas in Connecticut_ is her favorite.”

“She has good taste. It’s a wonder she ever gave you the time of day,” Steve said.

“It is a fair observation,” Natasha said, putting down her cards. The game was boring, she thought. No strategy.

“I know,” Brock said.

“Aw, c’mon, mate. We can’t troll you proper if you just roll over like a dead dog,” Jack said.

 

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “I wonder who that will be?” Sharon said to Brock. She was slightly afraid Steve had hired carolers. Or elves.

“Must be Santa,” Steve said, grinning slyly.

“It’s only the fifth of December, Steve,” Sharon said.

“I will get the door,” Natasha said. She missed Steve’s wink at Jack. The redheaded moved gracefully to the apartment door and peered through the peephole. “It is Santa,” she said, slightly surprised. There was a man in a long white beard and red suit outside the door. Perhaps this was Tony Stark’s idea of a prank?

“See if he’s brought presents!” Steve said cheerfully. Cameron sighed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Cam,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

“It’s not you or Santa, I just can’t remember if this is a good hand or not?” Cam said fretfully, running a hand through his curly hair. Jack leaned a fraction to the left.

“It’s not. Sorry, mate,” he said. He patted Cameron’s shoulder reassuringly. The poor kid was a bundle of nerves, really, Jack thought. Americans were so high strung.

 

Across the room, Natasha opened the door. She looked casual, but she was prepared for a sudden attack. Or singing. People sent people to sing at you, mystifyingly. “You are Santa Claus?” she said to the bearded man.

“Yes, ma’am,” the Santa said. “Kris Kringle, at your service, Miss Romanoff.” He bowed slightly.

“You have brought presents?” she said, indicating the sack at his shoulder.

“What kinda Santa would I be if I didn’t, doll?” he said. There was a familiar twinkle in those blue eyes. Natasha was very still for a long moment, staring up into those eyes. “You could at least remember me,” he said teasingly.

“I always did,” she said, hugging him in a sudden movement.

 

“Why is the Widow hugging Santa?” Brock said from the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter. Sharon shrugged.

“I have no idea. I’ve given up control of this house until January,” she told him. A moment later, Santa had pulled off his beard to kiss Natasha and Brock stood up a fraction.

“It’s Barnes,” he said. “Dressed up as Santa Claus.”

“Oh,” Sharon said. “That’s actually cool.”

 

Steve did the introductions. “Buck, you know Natasha and Jack and Brock, but this is Sharon, my---Peggy’s great-niece,” he said, presenting Sharon rather formally. She felt slightly awkward. Did Bucky Barnes expect her to be old-fashioned? Steve was beaming, as usual.

“You know, I hit on your Aunt Peggy once. She wouldn’t give me the time of day,” he said with a naughty grin and a wink. Guess not, Sharon thought.

“She never mentioned you at all,” Sharon said, grinning back. He mimed being stabbed through the heart.

“She was a cruel, heartless woman who only had eyes for that big clod,” Bucky said, indicating Steve. He turned to greet Cam.

“And this is Stan Klein’s grandson, Cameron,” Steve said.

“Whaddya know, Steve’s collected a bunch of grandkids,” Bucky said, shaking Cam’s hand. “Your grandfather was a swell guy.”

“Thanks,” Cam said nervously. He could feel the metal hand through Santa’s glove. It was a little alarming.

“Did Punk do all this?” Bucky said, returning his hand to Natasha’s, to Cameron’s relief and Nat’s delight. “Looks like a bunch of Santa’s elves vomited all over this place.”

“Finally, someone who understands,” Sharon said.

 

Brock stayed long enough to be polite, then drove to Jane, Thor, and Darcy’s apartment. But when he knocked, no one answered the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grandma Lewis's (stolen) Peppermint Red Velvet cake: https://www.southernliving.com/food/holidays-occasions/christmas-cake-recipes


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Christmas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Week 11

The Icon Hotel

Manhattan

Darcy’s room

 

“Jane! This hotel is awesome. I should always get our hotel recs from Tony,” Darcy said, as she futzed around her new room in their Manhattan suite. She’d already shed her clothes in favor of the big fluffy robe and pajamas. The Icon was a Stark property. Tony had funneled a little money in hotels when he decided to quit making weapons “because adultery’s better than war, right?” he’d told Darcy on the phone. Just then, her phone rang. “Where did you go, phone?” she said out loud. She found her pumpkin spice handbag on the chair and answered. “Hello?” she said.

“Hey, it’s me,” Brock said. “I stopped by your place to talk but--”

“I’m in New York,” Darcy said. “Tony flew us up earlier. Thor and I are doing a holiday snacks segment on the fourth hour of _Today_ show,” she explained. “Then Tony’s taking us all to an early holiday dinner tomorrow night and a Rockettes show,” she explained. She and Thor and Jane were going to do a face mask party in a few minutes. They wanted to look pretty for tomorrow. Darcy was excited about meeting Hoda and Kathy Lee. They’d specifically requested a fourth-hour timeslot.

“Oh,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you in person.”

“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow,” she said.

“I miss you,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t know I was gone!” Darcy said, suppressing a laugh.

“No, I miss you all the time. I want to spend time with you--” he began.

“We do spend time together? Sort of?” Darcy said quizzically. There was a long moment of phone silence.

“I want to go on dates,” he said finally. “I want to take you to movies and dinner and lunch at SHIELD, okay?” he said.

“Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?” Darcy asked.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“C’mon,” Darcy said. “You said you wanted to be casual. You can’t pretend you didn’t say that right after we spent the night together.”

“Look, I didn’t mean casual like that, I meant flexible,” he said.

“Flexible?” Darcy said, almost laughing into the phone. Jane came into the room and raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Brock,” Darcy mouthed. Jane nodded, then went back to the suite’s living room. “You mean, like, sexually?” Darcy asked, incredulous.

“No, God, no. Because I can’t control my schedule,” he said. “I didn’t want you getting upset if I was gone on missions or missed things. I knew I’d probably miss stuff. Dinners. Holidays. Big things.”

“And now you’re upset because you miss things?” Darcy asked him, still confused.

“Yeah,” he said. “I miss you. I miss us doing things together.”

“Ohhhh,” she said. “You actually _want_ to do things together?” She’d honestly thought he’d offered dinner or breakfast out of obligation, not genuine interest.

“Of course I do, Jesus,” he muttered. “I like you. How hard is that to understand?”

“Ooookay,” Darcy said.

“You don’t go around buying fucking purses and lipgloss for somebody you don’t like,” he said. “I got followed around in a Kohl’s the other day. I think this old lady in the handbags thought I was a creeper or a sex pervert or something.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. Then she burst out laughing.

“This is not funny, okay?” he said.

“Awww, you like me, you really, really like me!” Darcy singsonged.

“I do,” he said.

“I thought those gifts were sex bribes,” she admitted.

“Sex bribes? You thought I was giving you lip gloss for sex?” he said.

“To indicate that you still wanted to hook up, yeah,” she said.

“I think we need to talk more,” he said, sighing.

“Talk to me, then. What’s new with you?” she said, genuinely curious.

“Well, uh, I saw the Widow kissing Santa Claus--”

“Really?” she said.

“Uh-huh. With tongue, I think,” he said.

“Go Nat,” Darcy said.

“Also, Cap really likes Christmas. He’s like Rudolph the damn reindeer or something, you won’t believe what he did to Carter’s apartment….” he told her.

 

“Did you finally get permission to ditch your sling?” she asked, after they’d talked for a while.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I can use both my arms now, princess.”

“I’m absolutely not having phone sex with you,” she told him, catching his tone.

“Why not?” he said, sounding slightly let down. He was back at his apartment. It was perfectly safe, he thought. Fun. God, he liked how her mind worked.

“This is a Tony Stark hotel, he probably has the AI alerted to record all the sexytimes so he can make fun of the things people say in the heat of the moment,” Darcy said, giggling. “Like, ‘ow, I think the vibrator shocked me.’ Besides, we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

“We will?” he said. “I thought you were back tomorrow?”

“Yes, but you’re starting field work when?” she said.

“Probably January first, sooner if they need me and I get cleared by my doctor. Terrorists like to do their dumb shit during the holidays,” he said.

“See? You can be all naughty with me on a quinjet sometime,” she said.

“I’m taking you to Filomena’s to see the decorations first,” he said stubbornly. “And I pay.”

“All right,” she said.

 

“What was that about?” Jane asked, as she and Darcy were deciding between moisturizing and brightening masks.

“Brock still wants to be my boyfriennnndddddd, it turns out he misses paying for my desserts and listening to me talk, can you believe that?” Darcy said.

“Duh,” Jane said. “I’ve been trying to tell you, but the voice of your low self-esteem is very loud and drowns me out.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Damn. I thought I was self-aware. Is he right that I’m a little sensitive?” Jane did a so-so gesture.

“Just about romantic rejection, the rest of you is okay. You have academic and workplace confidence, I think. Boys throw you off,” Jane said.

“Boys,” Darcy said. “Phhfft. Still, he’s so cute and hot and stuff. And he has such good taste in purses.”

“Stop trying to pretend you two idiots aren’t in love,” Jane said firmly. “Be sincere, okay?”

“Okay, but you’ll take care of me if I end up sincerely crying on your couch?” Darcy said. “Couple-y feelings are scary.”

“Yup,” Jane said.

 

***

“I thought Kathy Lee Gifford was going to throw you over her shoulder, Point Break!” Tony said, laughing, at dinner the next night. “She seemed very single and ready to mingle!” Tony had rented a room in a restaurant.

“They’d had a lot of Asgardian plum wine together before the show,” Darcy said. Jane rolled her eyes, but Thor was happy.

“Hoda of the Kotbs was quite impressed with my holiday snack combinations!” he boomed. He’d demonstrated his affinity for combining traditional desserts with candy items. Darcy and Thor’s “Reese’s Peanut Butter Trees Cake” was the most pinned recipe on Pinterest at the moment.

The _Today_ segment had gone really well. Hoda had complimented her on her Pumpkin Spice purse and Darcy had said her boyfriend had great taste. She hoped that Brock would be happy to hear it on live tv and not freak out or something. She’d done it on impulse.

“I assume we’ll be writing a Tacky Foods cookbook next,” Darcy confided to Pepper and Rhodey.

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Pepper said. “You have a built-in audience with Thor, you like kitsch, you’re both good-looking. Let me get you the name of an editor friend….” Pepper said, going for her phone.

“What did I do?” Darcy said to Rhodey.

“I just let Pepper arrange my life, it’s like the military, but with better thread count sheets and those really nice candles,” Rhodey said.

“I sort of let Darcy do that for me,” Jane said.

“My sheets have a sad thread count, though,” Darcy admitted.

“I love my galaxy sheets,” Jane insisted.

“Hey, hey. I just want to say a few words. Congrats to Point Break, Itty Bitty, and Genius Jane on successfully navigating morning television. Also, we’re calling this an early Christmas dinner,” Tony said, holding up a glass, “so we can all say we had one good one before we visit our dysfunctional relatives.”

“Tony, no--” Pepper said.

“He says that like he wasn’t all over my mama’s sweet potato pie at Thanksgiving,” Rhodey said.

“That’s true, I love your mom,” Tony said. “She’s great. What if she adopted me?”

“I thought you were adopting me!” Darcy called down the table.

“We can do that, too,” Tony continued.

 

Mid-meal, Darcy got up and left the table to pee. She was coming back through the restaurant’s main area when someone called her name. She turned. “Billy, hello,” Darcy said, surprised. Billy Russo was standing behind her.

“Hi, Darcy,” he said. “I saw you on television this morning.”

“Did I do okay?” Darcy asked.

“Why don’t you sit with us?” he said indicating a table farther away. It was full of stylish-looking people.

“Well, I’ve got friends waiting in there--” she said, pointing over her shoulder at the room.

“After dinner then,” he said, smiling.

“I’m leaving town,” Darcy explained, smiling.

“You never did call me,” Billy said.

“We’ve been pretty busy with the Youtube stuff,” she supplied.

“I’m not used to that,” Billy said.

“Used to what?” Darcy said, slightly confused.

“Women who never call me,” he said. “It’s not very fun, Darcy. Now you don’t even want to sit with me and my friends? This is embarrassing.” There was something tight about his face, Darcy realized. Was he actually upset? Darcy felt like something about him was weird and off. She put her hand on her taser inside the pumpkin purse; Tony had given her a mini one as a surprise tonight.

“I really should go,” she said clearly, taking a step back.

“Go? Without saying hello to my friends?” Billy said, his gaze especially dark. For a moment, she thought Billy Russo was actually going to grab her arm.

She was saved from having to tase him by the emergence of Thor and Jane from the room. “Is everything okay?” Jane said, in a quietly lethal voice. At sight of Jane and Thor swinging Mew-Mew too-casually, Billy seemed to recollect himself. The sense of menace Darcy felt from him coiled back up, like a snake slithering back under a bush. Now it was all behind his eerily dark eyes

“No,” he said. “You folks have a Merry Christmas now. It was nice to see you.” His eyes glittered.

 

“Jane, that freaked me out. It felt very _Gift of Fear_ ,” Darcy said quietly, once they were back in the private room. “My subconscious was totally registering fear signaling things, just like Gavin de Becker said it might.” She shivered. Someone had loaned them that book in New Mexico. It was the anti-creeper manual.

“Rumlow was right about his eyes,” Jane admitted.

“How did you know I needed help?” Darcy asked.

“Mjolnir sensed your alarm, my Lightning Sister,” Thor said gravely.

“I was gonna use your taser, Tony,” Darcy said.

“I don’t like the looks of that asshole,” Tony said, leaning around to look as Billy and his friends left.

“But to be fair, you say that about all other rich dudes,” Rhodey teased.

“Even Bill Gates,” Jane said.

“Especially Bill Gates,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes.

“People named Bill are assholes, what can I say?” Tony said.

“I got a really strong vibe that Billy Russo does not handle rejection well,” Darcy whispered to Jane.

 

All through the Rockettes’ high kicks and the live Bethlehem manger scene--Darcy waved at the camel--she thought about all the ways she’d told Brock no since she’d met him. He’d been perfectly calm when she said no to sex during their movie nights, when they stayed together at that hotel, and finally, had let her run the whole show when they were hooking up with each other. Never scary, never pushy. She’d gotten so comfortable around him, she’d almost forgotten that some people could be threatened if you so much as cracked a joke around them.

 

***

“Billy Russo did what?” Brock said, when Darcy put him on speaker phone on Tony’s plane. He’d planned on meeting them at the airport, but Fury had put him in charge of new agent training drills. Now, he was standing on a walkway, watching a bunch of probie SHIELD agents practice tactical movements inside a warehouse below him. At midnight. Sometimes, Fury could be a real pain in the ass, Brock thought. Still, Darcy was taking it well. She was cheerful and calm when he told her. He felt relieved. Until she and Jane started to tell him about their strange run-in with Billy Russo. He pulled off his night vision goggles as the agents below started to play with the fake flash grenades.

"It was creepy," Jane said. "You were right about his eyes."

"I almost hit him with Mjolnir,” Thor said helpfully.

“Dark, dark eyes like a shark, aye,” Darcy said, doing her best Quint impression.

“I might need to pay him a visit,” Brock said ominously.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Darcy said, shifting from joking to serious. “You don’t go near him. If I want him killed, I’ll have Nat and Bucky do it, I’m sure they know where to hide bodies.”

“Are you doubting my professional competency now?” he said.

“I just don’t want to have to marry you in SuperMax so we can have conjugal visits,” Darcy cracked.

“Fair enough,” he said. She could almost hear him grin. “Uh, Darcy, can I talk to you alone for a sec?” he asked.

“Sure,” Darcy said, hitting the phone button and put it to her ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, uh, it’s not anything wrong, but”--he sighed--”I told my mother you were going to be on television--she loves that _Today_ show, she DVRs it every day to watch with her wine at night--and, uh, now--” he paused

“Oh God, she hates me, she thinks I’m a total ditz or something?” Darcy guessed.

“No, no, honey, she thinks you’re great, she actually wants to meet you. She’s insisting that she visit me for Christmas so she can meet you,” he said.

“Ohhhhhhhh. Would she be impressed if I brought Thor? Is she a Thor mom? Or a Cap mom?” Darcy said.

“I don’t know,” he said, sighing. “Probably? Jesus, she’s gonna embarrass me so much.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” Darcy said comfortingly. “Besides, my Grandma Lewis wants to come, too. Ever since I spilled the beans on her famous peppermint cake in our last video, she says I owe her a hug from Captain America,” Darcy said. “I did not realize she’d been seriously passing it off as her recipe in Edenton since 1999 and now I’m in trouble, babe.”

“Oh, good, we can both hide from our relatives behind Cap’s giant Christmas tree or something,” Brock said dryly.

  
***

 

Week 12

Mid-December

Washington, DC

Darcy and Jane and Thor’s apartment

 

Thor and Jane had gone out for a romantic dinner, so Darcy was playing Christmas music, baking the last of her Captain America Christmas cakes, and having popcorn. The fruitcake was in rum, the Bûche de Noëls were in the fridge, the gingerbread men had been decorated, and her Grandma’s peppermint cake was mid-construction. Her frosting was made, but the cake layers were in the oven. Once the cake layers were done--her timer said five minutes--she was going to make herself a big holiday drink. She’d vetoed marbled layers, in defiance of _Southern Living_ , a sin that would no doubt upset Grandma Lewis, because she preferred all-red velvet to red-velvet marbled with plain old white cake. Red velvet tasted better. Besides, it was going to be six tiers. She’d portioned appropriately for the super-metabolized: the red velvet would be tall, there was a chocolate, a raspberry, and a gingerbread Bûche, and the fruitcake was the size of a Fiat. Well, almost.  Their “Two Avengers and Darcy Eat Christmas Cake” video was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. They were filming--at Steve’s insistence--in his Christmas-decked apartment. Darcy had promised to obscure any street-identifying details, but she was looking forward to seeing his decorations. Sharon had told her that Steve’s apartment was even more wildly decorated than her own. Darcy’s kitchen timer dinged and she removed each round pan from their double oven and inserted a toothpick in the center of each tier. “Yay!” she said, when it came out perfectly. “Now you cool and I get a martini,” she said to the cakes.

 

Her doorbell rang as she was taking her first sip. She peered through the peephole. Brock was standing on her doorstep. Darcy threw open the door. “Babe!” she shrieked, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you’d be free today.”

“Hey,” he said, “miss me, huh? I brought you a present.” He’d been working nonstop since they’d returned from New York a few days ago and she hadn’t seen him. He squeezed her with both arms, including the one holding the gift bag. He was a good hugger, she realized. That was new.

“Come inside,” Darcy said, nuzzling his chin.

“You look great,” he said. “Really great.” She was wearing a Christmas apron that Steve had given her. It had ruffles and blinking lights.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing him. “You’re ridiculously handsome, as usual,” she told him, once they’d been kissing for awhile. He looked around the condo.

“You decorate almost as much as Cap, only more princessy, Princess,” he teased, looking at her twinkle lights, tinsel, and pink retro Christmas tree.

“Does Steve not have a pink one?” she asked. “Oh, that reminds me, I should ask Steve about tango! I need to make a reminder note.”

“I don’t know, all I’ve seen is the Santa’s Village he set up at Carter’s,” he said, chuckling. “Tango? I thought Cap couldn’t dance?”

“Oh, this isn’t dance, this is a WWII thing. It’s in my Karal Ann Marling book, _Merry Christmas!_. They couldn’t use gold foil in Christmas bows and stuff because of the war effort, so they invented a gold substitute foil called tango. It’s supposedly orange-y gold. I’ve never been able to find a picture,” she said. “I googled like crazy. Zippo, zilch, nada.”

“You think he might remember?” Brock said.

“That’s what I’m hoping. I got him some modern Shiny Brite style ornaments as a surprise, too. I was worried the antiques might have lead or something. Come see our video cakes,” Darcy said, showing him her and Jane and Thor’s—he had a generous hand with icing and rum--handiwork.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s impressive. It really is.”

“I had lots of help,” Darcy said. “We had to experiment to get those big chocolate shavings that look like tree bark. Thor has a real gift with vegetable peelers and decorating gingerbread men, as long as you keep him from staging mock battles with them.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Mock battles?”

“We lost a dozen good gingerbread men to a restaging he and Mew Mew did of a battle on Vanaheim, Commander. Did you want a drink? This is my snowflake cosmo,” she said. “It has white cranberry juice, cointreau, vodka, and a little frozen cranberry?” He chuckled.

“You’ve got Christmas girly drinks, too?” he said. “Sure, I’ll try that.”

“Don’t knock ‘til you’ve tried it, buddy,” she told him, reaching down for the liquor bottles in the cabinet. Her snowflake cosmo was strong stuff. She’d just put them on the counter when he spoke again, slipping his arms around her.

“You look so good,” he said again, eyeing her in appreciation. “Have you gained weight?”

“Ahhh,” Darcy said, turning to him in horror. She slapped him playfully with her oven mitt on the chest. “What did you say that for?!” she said.

“You look good, though,” he said, holding up his arms in surrender. “It’s all good weight.”

“Have you never met a woman before?” she asked.

“Ummm,” he said.

“I’m telling your mama,” Darcy said, putting down the oven mitt. Now that she was voluntarily disarmed, he put his arms around her again and stood behind her as she measured out ingredients for the cocktail shaker.

“Please don’t. My mother thinks you’re too good for me already ,” Brock said. “She’s been terrified of me--” he paused.

“Hmm?” Darcy said, pouring in the Cointreau.

“Bringing home someone she couldn’t stand. Here, I’ll shake. Did you want to open your present?” he asked.

“I don’t have to wait until the 25th?” Darcy said. She didn’t mind waiting; shaking presents was fun and it added a frisson of anticipation to see brightly-wrapped packages under the tree. She liked making the holidays last as long as possible. Jane teased her for listening to Christmas music on November first.

“Nope, this is a pre-Christmas present,” he said. “Open it.”

“Okey-dokey,” she said. Why argue?

 

She bounced over to where he set the bag and carried it back to the kitchen. Whatever it was, the present was very cheerfully nestled in glittery snowflake tissue paper. “I loooove this tissue paper,” she said.

“I thought you might,” he said. She lifted the tissue paper out of the bag. Inside was another handbag.

“Ahhhhhhh,” she said loudly.

“Ouch,” he said teasingly. “I think all the dogs in the building just heard you, princess.”

“You got me the gingerbread house purse! I looked for this on Ebay last Christmas! We couldn’t find it,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “Jane told me.”

“How’d you find it?” Darcy asked, delighted.

“I have my ways,” he said. “That’s why you have to use it before Christmas. This martini isn’t bad. I had no idea cosmos were so strong.”

“I told you,” she said, grinning happily at the little gingerbread house.

“How ‘bout we take this popcorn and booze and watch some movies? They're always showing that one with that nerdy kid and the flagpole, what’s it called? The shoot your eye out one?” he suggested.

“ _A Christmas Story_. Umm, that’s not your favorite, is it?” Darcy asked tentatively.

“No, why?” he said.

“Because I kinda hate it,” she said.

“Great,” he said. “We can watch _Die Hard_ instead.”

“Much better,” Darcy told him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karal Ann Marling's great book, "Merry Christmas!", does really talk about tango-colored bows during WWII and stuff. I have looked in vain for a picture, but never been able to find one.
> 
> The gingerbread house purse is a real, older Betsey Johnson design, too. Totes adorbs: https://www.ebay.com/p/Betsey-Johnson-Home-Sweet-Home-Gingerbread-House-Crossbody-Bag-Bj62015h/2001497334. 
> 
> The more I write Christmas!Darcy and Christmas!Steve separately, the more I think a Christmas!Shieldshock meet-cute would be wonderful. One where they're both putting Christmas lights on everything, even Mew-Mew.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at Steve's (and Filomena's)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Everything in Steve’s apartment was Christmas-themed, up to and including napkins, bathroom towels, and the mistletoe hanging every three feet from candy cane colored hooks in the ceiling. They had to convince Thor it was okay to start filming, because he kept kissing Jane and Darcy...and Brock and Steve and Steve’s curious neighbors and one of the neighbors’ cats. Lights blinked in time with festive music and Steve had extra strong cocoa waiting. It was laced with peppermint schnapps. Darcy’d had two before she realized they were crafted for someone of Steve’s build, not hers. “Whoopsy daisy,” she told Brock. “You’ll get me home, right?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, kissing her. “You taste like Christmas morning.” He grinned slyly.

“Well, let’s pretend today is Christmas morning,” she whispered.

“Why?” he said.

“In case you’re out saving the world on the 25th? If not, then we get two,” she said, smiling.

“I like how you think,” he told her. “I was a real dipshit not realize you’d be good at this,” he said.

“What?” she said.

“Doing me,” he joked. Across the room, Steve looked up.

“Language,” he said. “Santa sees all.”

“Oh, yeah, where is Barnes?” Brock said teasingly.

“Behave,” Darcy told him, squeezing his sturdy bicep.

“Any other orders?” he said, giving her a smoldering look.

“Kiss me under some mistletoe?” she suggested.

“I think we’ll need to move, oh, about one foot in any direction,” Brock said.

 

Finally, they were able to begin filming. Darcy had thought the gingerbread men would make a fun starter. It turned out to be a whole lot of fun. Maybe too much. In not time at all, she was surrounded by half-crushed cookies.

“I’m real sorry about your gingerbread men, Darce,” Steve said on camera. “Me and Thor didn’t mean to break the entire tray restaging the Battle of Omaha.” He winked sneakily. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“I saw that, Cap,” she said. 

“Whoops,” he said. “Wish I’d a thought of getting my Christmas hammer to be Mjolnir for our skit.”

“You have a Christmas hammer?” Darcy said.

“It has holly on the handle!” Sharon called off-screen. She’d just arrived.

“Sharon!” Thor said, “I must kiss you, you are underneath the toe of the mistle!” He bounced off the couch and out of camera range.

“Thor’ll rejoin us in a sec,” Steve said. “But yeah, you can get many of your household tools in seasonal versions….”

“What was I speaking of?” Thor asked, plopping down again.

“Omaha,” Darcy said, eating a little shard of a DOA gingerbread man.

“A most glorious and valiant struggle, the Battle of Nebraska,” Thor said. “The gingerbread men sacrificed themselves in combat most brave.” Darcy patted his knee.

“That’s okay,” she told Thor. “It was a HYDRA base,” Darcy explained to the camera. ”Hidden in Omaha.”

“Our good friend the Hawkeye was quite distressed at the incursions of HYDRA into his beloved Midwestern states of America,” Thor said seriously.

“Hi, Hawkeye!” Darcy and Steve said in unison, waving at the camera. 

“We’ll save you cake!” Darcy said. “Now, onto our next cake.” Off-screen, Jane made drum-roll sounds. 

“I love the peppermint red velvet!” Steve said excitedly. He grinned. There was a bit of frosting on his nose.

“Hear that, Grandma Lewis? You have the official Captain America seal of approval,” Darcy said, clapping. “Captainnnnnnn Aaaaaaaamericaaaaaaaaaaaa!” she cheered, raising her fists in the air like Oprah.

“Aye, it is most tasty! I find the peppermint refreshing and invigorating,” Thor boomed. “All of these Midgardian holiday cakes are quite delicious.” He cut a slice of fruitcake the size of a shoebox and began eating it enthusiastically.

  
  
  
  


***

“I wanted it to be just us,” Brock groused, as they left the SUV and got out on the sidewalk at Filomena’s. They were having a big Christmas dinner with everyone from out of town to celebrate breaking the internet. Their video had been viewed one million times in the first 24 hours. News anchors were still talking about it. 

“What?” Darcy said, distracted. Up ahead, Steve was actually bridal carrying her grandmother over the threshold. Darcy was worried her grandma might break a hip. The group was headed inside while they waited for Brock’s mother and sister on the sidewalk.

“When you saw the Christmas decorations here, I wanted it to be us,” he said, sighing. “Just us.”

“Aw, you wanted to all romantic,” Darcy said. “Mr. Tough Guy is a closet romantic.”

 

“Shh, don’t let Ma hear you say that,” he said. “Here they are.” His mother and sister were getting out of a car behind them. A woman--Darcy guessed this was Mrs. Rumlow--bounced out in her long fur coat and made a beeline for them. She had dark hair in an updo.

“Hello, Mrs. Rumlow, it’s nice to mee--” Darcy began. She was almost swept off her feet by the woman’s embrace. “Oh,” Darcy said.

“You are so pretty,” she said, setting Darcy back down and holding her face. Then her eyes swept Darcy’s body. “Honey, you need a heavier coat. You’ll freeze!”

“Oh, this is my winter one,” Darcy said, looking down in surprise. She hadn’t needed anything heavier than a denim jacket in Hawaii, so she’d donated her heavy Norwegian coats instead of shipping them. A few weeks ago, she’d bought a pretty red one for DC. A little peacoat.

“Brock, you need to get her a real coat,” his mother scolded. “Do not let this girl freeze to death. She’s southern, she doesn’t know about the cold. She’ll catch hypothermia and die.”

“Ma, she’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s only sixty degrees.”

“Do you hear him?” Brock’s mother said to his sister. “He finally,  _ finally _ meets somebody he’ll introduce to us and now he’s letting her freeze to death!”

“Ma, don’t be so dramatic. I’m Fal,” Fallon said.

“Darcy,” Darcy replied, smiling. They hugged.

“My mother has been replaying your  _ Today  _ show clip for everyone,” Fallon said. “Her mailman has seen it.” Fallon laughed.

“Excuse me, it’s not like he’s a stranger. We’ve known Vinnie Rinaldi for your entire lives. His mother lives next door to me, honey,” she told Darcy. “I wouldn’t show your clip to just anybody.” 

“Oh, that’s all right, anybody can see it, that’s why it’s on free television,” Darcy said jokingly.

“Oh, she’s so sweet,” Mrs. Rumlow told her son. “Don’t you mess this up. You will break my heart and I will die.”

“You’re dying now, too?” he said. Fallon snorted.

 

“Ohh, the decorations are beautiful,” Mrs. Rumlow said.

“I love them,” Darcy told Brock, smiling.

“Hey, is that cute Captain America here?” Fallon asked, as they walked towards the table.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, pointing Steve out. “That’s my grandma on his other side, Hettie Lewis.”

“Hettie!” Brock’s mother said in delight. “A unique name. I love unique names, honey.”

“We know,” Brock said.

“I thought my name was so boring, every third Italian girl in the Bronx is named Angela, so I wanted to give my children special names,” Mrs. Rumlow said. 

“That’s really nice,” Darcy said honestly. 

“We’re named after soap characters, princess,” Brock said in a low voice. The feel of his mouth near her ear sent a shiver of pleasure down Darcy’s spine. She stopped him by a spray of poinsettias and kissed him on the mouth. “Is it too late to flee?” he joked.

“Yup,” she said. His mother was already at the table. As they walked up, Darcy overheard Mrs. Rumlow talking to Grandma Lewis. Sharon was grinning broadly at them.

“Oh, I was so happy when I saw her, I almost screamed at the television, lemme tell you. I was so afraid that he’d bring home some tattoo artist with spiders on her neck and kids by four different fathers, what have I always said?” Mrs. Rumlow asked Fallon. Fal had slid into the chair next to Steve.

“That he would fall in love with some terrifying-looking woman with tattoos and kids and she’d end up murdering him, but he wouldn’t know better because he was in midlife crisis,” Fallon repeated with a sly grin.

“Midlife crisis?” Brock said. “What?”

“You’re forty years old, single, and you start covering your body with those disgusting tattoos?” his mother said. Steve was openly laughing.  

“Ma, where do you get this stuff?” Brock asked.

“I think they’re beautiful,” Darcy said loyally.

“She saw an episode of a show on Investigation Discovery,” Fallon explained. “Tattoo Girl got married in black, then murdered the guy for child custody. She’s mentioned it many, many times.” Brock shook his head.

“Do not let him talk you into those awful things, your skin is beautiful. You’re a stunning girl,” his mother insisted to Darcy. “Brock, if you pressure her--”

“Ma, c’mon, I would never,” he said.

“I don’t like needles anyway,” Darcy said.

“She knows I would kill her!” Grandma Lewis said suddenly, cackling. “I’m gonna kill her if she keeps actin’ like she’s eighteen. You got laugh lines, honey. Time to be a big girl!”

“Grandma--” Darcy began.

“What? Isn’t it about time you settled down, anyway? You’re not a kid anymore, missy. Time’s a wastin’ and he ain’t exactly young, either,” Grandma Lewis said, nodding firmly. “You’ll have powdered eggs if you don’t get a move on. I had four children at your age.”

“Grandma!” Darcy said.

“I tell him that all the time,” Angela Rumlow said. “Does he listen? Never!” Brock groaned. Fallon and Steve hid behind Steve’s menu, laughing. 

“Help me,” Darcy mouthed at Jane.

“Would you like to see Thor’s biceps?” Jane asked the two older women.

“We have bestowed upon them the honored names Thunder and Lightning,” Thor said proudly.

“Yes!” Fallon said, applauding. “I want tickets to the gun show!”

“Hey, now, if you want a real gun show, I gotta participate. Rumlow, you in?” Steve said, shrugging off his jacket. There was a twinkle in his eye. Darcy thought he might be a little attracted to Fallon. She was very unique-looking, with her curly dark hair and dramatic features. 

“Aye, join us, Commander!” Thor called to Rumlow.

“No, you all knock yourselves out, Darcy and I are getting a table alone,” he said, stressing the last word significantly. “Got that?” he asked his mother.

“Do you see how he talks back to me?” Darcy heard Angela say as they walked back to the hostess stand.

 

“I don’t care if you put us next to the bathroom, just get us away from my mother,” he told a shocked-looking hostess. Then he slipped her a twenty.

“That was very...take charge,” Darcy said, when they were seated. They were at the farthest point from the other table.

“Yeah,” he said. “You want some kind of appetizer? Garlic bread? Cheese? Something like that?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m still processing my hot boyfriend’s going all STRIKE and rescuing me from that hostage situation over there,” Darcy said, grinning.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. He rubbed his chin. “We’re not old. We’re just getting started.”

“That’s right,” Darcy said, smiling. He grinned at her. 

 

They were splitting the lobster linguine when he looked at her suddenly. “Do I got something on my chin?” she mumbled, around a sweet hunk of lobster.

“I, uh, I--I love you,” he said in a rush. 

“Really?” Darcy said.

“Are you not going to say it back?” he said. There was a weird flash of panic in his eyes. She swallowed the lobster.

“I’ve been in love with you forever, I’m just surprised you are already,” Darcy said. “With me?”

“Of course with you,” he said, tearing off a hunk of bread. “Forever?” he asked.

“Well, I was sure after I saw you naked…” she began. He laughed.

“Okay, okay,” he said.

“But I started having suspicions somewhere around the time you didn’t stay to watch  _ After the Thin Man _ and it made me all sad,” she admitted. “Subsconscious suspicions.”

“What are those?” he said frowning.

“That’s when Jane tells you love somebody and you argue with her because you don’t want to let the feelings cat out of the bag. She’s my subconscious, basically,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” he said.

“Did you want me to be more demonstrative?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he admitted. She slid her chair around to his side of the table and embraced him.

“Love you,” she whispered, between kisses. She sucked his bottom lip.

“Better, princess,” he said throatily.

“Yes,” she said. “More wine?” Jane was the designated driver.

“Yes,” he said.

“You picked a good one,” she told him. He was looking thoughtful.

“I think your eggs are probably fine,” he said suddenly. “But your grandma makes a good point.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“I mean, I’ve never thought about kids, but we could do, like, one?” he said. “Would one be crazy?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Darcy said. “I’m not ready for this talk.”

“You’re freaking out?” he said.

“The idea of being pregnant scares the bejesus out of me,” she whispered.

“Who is bejesus? Should I be worried?” he said, grinning.

“You’re teasing me now, which is just mean,” Darcy said, running her fingers through his hair.

“Hmmm. I’ve been naughty,” he said softly. “Does this mean you don’t want to practice baby-making?”

“Oh, I think we should totally practice,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said.

 

“What about getting a dog instead?” he said, as they were splitting the chocolate mousse.

“What?” Darcy said.

“We could be one of those fun kid-free couples that just has a dog. Like a beagle,” he said. 

“That”--Darcy looked over at the table with their relatives--”might be a better idea.” He followed her gaze.

“I’m roughly fifty percent sure my mother would not send out Christmas cards with the dog in an ugly Christmas sweater like she would a baby,” he said.

“But on a dog it might actually be cute. Did I ever tell you about the dog I rescued from the aliens in New Mexico?” Darcy asked.

“No, tell me, princess,” he said, smiling. 

“Well the people who adopted him named him the worst name. You’ll never guess--” she said.

“Spot?”

“Nuh-uh,” she said.

“Petey?” he said.

“Nope.”

“Darth Vader?”

“No, but I think that’s a good cat name,” Darcy said.

“Ok, I give up, what was the worst name?” Brock asked.

“They actually named him Loki. The poor dog was almost squished by friggin’ Loki!” she said.

“You, too,” Brock said.

“Yeah, but I would’ve been really upset if Al had gotten squished,” Darcy said.

“You’re more upset over the dog than yourself?” he said. She nodded as if that should be obvious. “Al?”

“I was calling him Al Puppicino,” she said. “He was so hoarse from all the barking, he made these little Pacino noises like, ‘Hah!’” she explained. 

“Good Italian name,” he said.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *I think? This feels like a natural end to this particular story?


End file.
